


A Selfish Act

by My_OTP_will_kill_me (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Dies In Battle of Five Armies, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Azog is a buttwipe, BAMF Bilbo, Bilbo Dies, Bilbo is related to a fairy, Bilbo saves Thorin, Can get pretty gory, Dont let the tags fool you!!!!, Dwarves have Ones, Everybody Lives, Everyone knows they love each other, F/M, Fairies, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hobbits have love dreams, It is a fix-it, Lot's of sass, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mahal ships it, Past Child Abuse, Protective Thorin, Sassy Bilbo, Thorin Feels, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin saves Bilbo, acorns, are real and posses magic powers, everyone ships it, not sorry, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:45:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/My_OTP_will_kill_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, when fairy's flew across Middle Earth, one of them did the dance with no pants with a hobbit, who of course was one of those adventurous Tooks. The hobbit and fairy lived a happy life together, and had many children, as per usual when it came to hobbit families. The fairy blood lived on throughout the Tooks, all the way to a Baggins.</p><p>When faced with danger, Bilbo is able to harness the fairy power within him, but will that be his downfall? Will Thorin be able to convince two stubborn bickering creators to bring his One back to him? Will Thranduil get in his way of seeing his One alive once more? DOES THORIN LOVE BILBO???? ....the answer to the last question is yes. Yes he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thorin could only stand in horror as he watched his greatest nemesis held his son in the air over the high ledge.

 

_This can’t be happening, he thought, helplessly. Not Fíli. Not my son. Take me instead! This isn’t their fight!_

“No!” Fíli cried when Dwalin made a run toward the ruined buildings. Thorin knew Azog could see the fear on his face by his feral smile he shot his way; but he didn’t care. He was more than afraid, or scared. Thorin Oakenshield, for the first time in his life, felt absolutely terrified.

Thorin watched as Azog shouted out to them in black speech, raising his knifed arm to gut his nephew.

Just as Thorin was about to scream in rage for the lose of his sister son’s life, Azog’s face twisted in confusion while he opened his mouth wide to shout. Whether at his soldiers, or just in general, Thorin did not know.

Thorin and Dwalin watched in bewilderment when no sound came out of Azog’s mouth, but he instead began to gag as if struggling to breath.

In his manic behavior, Azog threw Fíli off the ledge to the ground below them, allowing his hand to claw at the invisible thing around his neck. Thorin’s heart raced at the sight, watching the flash of yellow and brown before it disappeared behind buildings.

Fíli’s pained cursing was a reassurance to Thorin as he stood on his tiptoes in hopes of seeing his bright, blonde head. He saw a small speck of color and assumed Kíli had found his brother to help him.

Thorin whipped his head around the area, looking for the pointy grey hat that could be the only known source for this mischievousness. His eyes landed not on a tall, grey man, but on a tiny hobbit who was faintly....glowing?

Bilbo was slowly making his way up some rock debris that formed a small perch. His arm was straight out in front of him in Azogs direction, hand out as if to choke someone....and his _eyes_. Thorin had looked into the eyes of his burglar many a time before, and knew first hand that his eyes were as bright as the shiniest green emeralds, but never had Bilbo’s eyes actually glowed like a green flame.

The dwarf could only observe in awe as Bilbo stopped at the top of the small rock heep, face blank of emotion as he stared down the creature that Thorin hated more than any dragon. When Thorin glanced back up, he was shocked to find Azog’s usual white head a bright shade of red.

 

“You will not harm a hair on that boy's head,” Bilbo seethed, his voice so unlike his normal high and happy tone. It was thunderous, deep, and gravelly. It reminded Thorin much of the noises the rock giants made in the storm over the Misty Mountains, yet louder all the same.

Thorin watched in amusement as Azog’s men turned and ran back into the tower, and felt his lips twitch up when he saw the fear in Azog’s face.

Bilbo’s head snapped to the fleeing men's direction, and with a flick of his wrist, Azog went flying through the air over them both, hitting the large rocks behind them. Thorin fought back the triumphant smile as Azog slumped to the ground in a pathetic heap. When Thorin turned back around, what he saw was not at all what he was expecting.

With a gasp, Thorin watched the sky darken. Goblins, orcs, trolls, wargs, and those terrible winged bat creatures were plucked from the grounds of Erebor, Dale, and behind them from the South, and were thrown into the air high above the towers in front of them. With terrible screeches, the beings tried in vain to get back to solid ground, but only gathered closer above them all in a swirling mound.

Bilbo continued to stand on his little rock perch, moving his arms gracefully around him. The small movements seeming to control the mass of creatures above the small hobbit, as he moved and shaped them all into a spinning ball.

 

“Hear my words,” Bilbo bellowed over the screeching, surprising Dwalin and himself in it’s loudness. Thorin stumbled to stay standing, digging orcist into the ground for support. “Never again shall you come within miles of these lands.” The snarling, howls, and growls grew within the lump, causing Thorin’s grip on orcist to tighten instinctively.

“I cast you back to the fiery pit from whence you came!” With a toss, Bilbo appeared to throw the ball south of Erebor towards Gondor(if Thorin was correct on his geography, but he had been informed many a time that he was quite bad at it).

Thorin’s eyes snapped to the high tower, where the blonde elf from Mirkwood stood on the roof. His eyes wide, and mouth hanging open while he watched the ball fly farther and farther till it was out of view.

 

 _Stupid elves with their climbing. Have they no decency?!_ Thorin took a moment to think over his own question. _No. No they don’t._

 

From below, Thorin could hear the battle cheer go up, and saw with pride as the great blue and gold flag of Erebor was dropped from the gateway. With an exhausted heave, Bilbo slouched over, placing his hands on his knees and panting for air before he collapsed over his perch, falling to the ground below. Thorin bolted towards him, catching him before he was able to hit the ground. Every so gently, Thorin lowered them both, setting Bilbo gingerly in his lap.

 

“Is ‘e alright?” Dwalin asked, coming up behind him. Thorin checked Bilbo over, looking for any grievous injuries, and felt his shoulders sag in relief when he found none. Thorin’s breath caught when brilliant green eyes slowly fluttered open, and found his.

 

“Master Baggins?” Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut in pain, lifting his hand to his head with a groan.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you,” he moaned, glaring up at him. “Call me Bilbo. Ugh, my head! What in Yavanna’s name happened?” Thorin couldn’t help but grin down at him, and place a small kiss to his forehead.

 

“You never cease to amaze me, Master Burglar,” he told him reverently, loving the small blush that crept up his burglar’s neck and rosy cheeks.

 

 _Not your burglar anymore,_ his mind told himself, killing any and all happiness he might have felt _. Not after what you did at the gate._

Thorin had wanted to physically slap himself once he came to his senses after the gold sickness. He knew he still needed to have a talk with his friends, and ask them to tie him up and throw him in a broom closet should he fall to the gold sickness again.

He noticed Bilbo’s knowing eyes watch him, and that was the last straw for Thorin who knew he shouldn’t even be within a mile of Bilbo’s presence. With a grunt, Thorin began to adjust Bilbo, to what he thought would be a more comfortable position, when Bilbo hissed in pain. Thorin was immediately there, looking over Bilbo for an injury he might have missed, but was instead hit by  Bilbo’s small hand that smacked against his chest.

 

“Stop moving!” he demanded, his eyes shut in pain while his other hand rubbed at his temple. “I feel like my head is going to explode with every breath I take. Oh, it hurts!” he groaned, sliding his hand off of Thorin’s chest to rub at the other temple. With a defeated sigh, Bilbo squinted up at Dwalin. His eyes grew bright at the sight of Dwalin’s hammer clutched defensively in his hands.

“Oh, Master Dwalin, thank Eru. Do me a favor, and just,” he began, leaning back out of Thorin’s grasp and exposing his head to the other dwarf. “Smash my head into the ground.” Thorin could feel his treturous lips lift up into a smile at his- the hobbit’s antics. Dwalin looked displeased by the display, and turned to Thorin, ignoring Bilbo’s huff of annoyment.

 

“I’ll go look for Fíli and Kíli.” With a nod of approval from him, Dwalin jumped the ledge of ice and trotted over to the crumbling buildings, eyes scanning his surroundings for any filth that might have escaped Bilbo’s power.

 

_Speaking of Bilbo’s power…._

“I can feel you staring at me,” Bilbo said after a moment of Thorin watching him. “Look, I-”

 

“I’m sorry,” Thorin blurted out, mentally smacking his forehead with his rude behvior. Bilbo’s eyes snapped open to meet his in shock, his lips parted ever so slightly.

 

“Wha-” Bilbo cut himself off, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “What are you sorry about?”

 

“I’m sorry I fell to the gold sickness. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you tried to stop a war. I’m sorry I tried to throw you off-” Thorin’s jaw snapped shut at the words he couldn’t even bare utter, ashamed that his voice had broken at the last word.

“And, I’m sorry for everything else that you can possibly think of that I might have done that was wrong.” Bilbo’s eyes had softened, making Thorin feel sick inside at how quick the hobbit was able to forgive someone of something that should have been unforgivable.

 

“I’m sorry, too. I-”

 

“Bilbo Baggins, don’t you dare try to apologize when you don’t need to,” Thorin warned. With a sigh, Bilbo lifted his hand to the side of Thorin’s face, and gently cupped his scruffy cheek.

 

“But I do. I should not have stolen from you. Like I have tried to tell you blasted dwarves this entire adventure, I am not a burglar. I also want to say,” Bilbo interrupted him before he could protest. “I forgave you the moment I slid down the rope.” Thorin’s little intake of breath had him clearing his throat of the emotions that had filled him.

“Do I still think you’re a dunderhead? Yes, of course I do.” Thorin smirked down at the wonderful hobbit being in his hands who smiled fondly back up at him. “But you’re a wonderful dunderhead. You’re _my_ dunderhead.” Thorin had never heard a sweeter, or grander compliment.

“You’re my wonderful, handsome, insane dunderhead who didn’t know what was going on,” Bilbo said lovingly, smoothing the scruff on Thorin’s face. “Now, help me up please,” he grumbled, sitting up to face Thorin.

 

“I thought your head hurt?” Thorin asked, with a sinking suspicion. Bilbo shook his head, his curls flying about his face.

 

“Not really. It kinda hurts, but I don’t actually feel it unless I’m laying down.” Thorin shook his head in irritation, knowing how Bilbo could keep illnesses and pains a secret from people who needed to know. “Anyways, I think you want to know more about what happened, than how my head is doing.” Thorin pursed his lips.

 

“I worry about both.” Bilbo rolled his eyes in a very mature fashion.

 

“Yes, yes, but you already know the answer to how my head is.” Thorin didn’t like it, but he was going to let Bilbo’s headache slide, hoping that he would at least go to Oín if it ended up getting really bad.

 

“So, what happened?” Thorin watched as Bilbo shuffled around on the snow, trying to get comfortable on his seat. Once he was content, he pulled his knees up to his chest, slowly rocking side to side.

 

“Do you remember how I told you that there are really old tales in the Shire?” Thorin nodded. “Well, one of those tales is that when Yavanna was first married to Aulё-your maker-she conceived, and gave birth to fairies.” Thorin made a face, not fully liking or understanding where this story was going.

“Don’t ask, I don’t know why. Anyways, when Yavanna named her children, she named them after the blessing she would bestow upon them. For example, there was Love, Kindness, Charity, Beauty, Truth, and so on and so forth. I know, kinda lame, but I won’t judge.” Bilbo paused to cough into his elbow, apologizing before continuing.

“Well, the fairies grew up to be good, and most of them used their blessing to help others like they were supposed to. Beauty would go around the forest, helping it to flourish with flowers, or go and help people see their inner beauty.

Truth would help find out the truth when someone was wronged, or could be trusted because they always told the truth. But, like every story, there were a few who soon started using their gifts for themselves, or used them for bad instead of good.

Beauty would stay at home, ensuring that he looked his best before anything else, and soon he became infatuated by his own reflection. Truth began to use his trust he had built up with others, to lie and spread rumours about people who had wronged him. Soon, everything got out of hand, and Yavanna got fed up with it.” Thorin hadn’t realized he had leaned in closer towards Bilbo with his every word, till he jerked back to his sitting position.

“So she made a rule, that if any of her children used their gift against their blessing, or for personal reasons, they would die and have to live in the Gardens of Waiting, which is said to be a separate place that Yavanna made for peace and quiet from her husband.” Thorin wanted to have understood the hobbit, really he did. But he didn’t, and said as much.

“So, for example, if Beauty looked in the mirror and helped his own appearance before those around him, his insides would slowly be crushed till he was dead.” Thorin cocked his head to the side at the gruesome detail of this poor fairy’s death.

 

“That….is kind of harsh,” he finally said after a moment. Bilbo nodded in agreement, eyes wide in understanding as he continued.

 

“That’s what Aulё thought, which is said to be the cause of their divorce. Anyways, most of the fairies died out by the time Yavanna created hobbits. One of the surviving fairies, was Selfless, and she fell in love and gave birth to someone on the Took side. She died only because once her husband had died, she refused to leave her house to help anyone at all.” Thorin blinked at him.

 

“You’re half Took,” Thorin said slowly, as if afraid to say it and be wrong with the complicated names in Bilbo's family he just couldn't get right. Bilbo nodded, much to Thorin’s relief.

 

“They’ve always said that the fairy blood would only be activated in desperate times, and since there hasn’t been any, no one has been deemed one of the fairy’s descendant. So most thought it all to be a big childrens tale that you tell your children at bedtime.”

 

“I’m guessing you didn’t,” Thorin assumed by the way Bilbo scoffed at the very thought that it was all a fable. Bilbo smirked at his hands while he made little markings in the snow.

 

“My mother’s stories were always different from the other parent’s.” Bilbo breathed in deeply through his nose, letting it all out in a gust of hot air. “She was an adventurer, my mother.”

 

“Like mother like son.” Bilbo’s startled chuckle made Thorin’s insides melt.

 

“You’re right,” he laughed. “You’re absolutely right. Oh, she must be celebrating in her grave to know I have done something that may have out scandalized her. Ugh!” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Hobbits are gonna have a field day when they see what I have become.” Thorin’s mood soured at the thought of someone being rude to Bilbo, and of Bilbo leaving to go back to the Shire.

 

_AAAAAHHHH!!!!!! He has to go back to the Shire!!!!!_

Thorin’s breath hitched at the thought of Bilbo being so far away from him. Thorin knew he couldn’t keep him from his home if he did not want to stay with him, but he had to try and convince Bilbo that there was something here on this side of Middle Earth that was as cool, or cooler than anything the Shire had.

At Bilbo’s worried gaze, Thorin reached for his hand and clasped it tightly between his large, calloused ones.

 

“I would have you stay,” he begged, watching the confusion fill his hobbits eyes. “With me. In Erebor, I-I would have you stay.” Bilbo’s lips began to lift in the corners with every passing second, and with every passing second Bilbo did not answer, Thorin felt like he was going to go into cardiac arrest.

 

“I would love too.” Thorin breathed a sigh of relief, his smile bright and happy. He leaned in to kiss his wonderful, beloved, amaz-

“Nah-ah-ugh.” Thorin’s lips were stopped by a tiny, dirty hand shoved up to them instead of soft lips. Thorin wrenched his head away, spitting into the snow and wiping at his mouth.

 

“Bilbo!” he whined, spitting dirt out of his mouth.

 

“One step at a time, your highness,” Bilbo scolded, his eyes sparkling with humour. Just as Thorin was about to correct him of the title, his mouth silently fell open at the realization. He, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, was going to be the King of the Lonely Mountain. He would fulfill his birthright in the place of his forefathers.

Thorin glanced back at Bilbo who smiled sweetly up at him.

“I will follow you anywhere, my King.” Thorin shut his eyes tight at the burn that filled his eyes at the promise. At the soft sound of shuffling, Thorin peered up at Bilbo who was kneeling in front of him.

“Now, now,” he soothed, brushing Thorin’s errant strands of hair away from his face. His soft thumbs brushed against Thorin’s cheeks, wiping at the single tear that had been shed.

“This may be a time to mourn, but also a time to celebrate.” Bilbo’s smile fell, and his eyes filled with sadness as a thought crossed his mind.

“Fíli survived, right?” he pleaded, voice no louder than a whisper. Thorin rushed to ease his worries.

 

“I heard him swearing when Azog dropped him over the ledge. I think he’s okay, and no doubt Dwalin has found him and helping him with his injuries.” Bilbo sighed in relief, resting his head on Thorin’s shoulder with a content hum.

 

“I’m glad. I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to harness the power inside of me. My mother had hinted in being able to, but no one has officially been able to fully harness since Selfless passed away hundreds of years ago.”

 

“Until today,” Thorin countered, his eyebrows raised in pride. Bilbo smiled up at him, lifting his hand to his own face to brush his rampant curls out of his eyes.

 

“Until today, yes.” They sat in each others embrace for a moment, lingering in the feel of the other. It comforted Thorin to know that Bilbo did not mind being so close to him, and actually initiated the few touches made between the two.

“I knew you would come back to me,” Bilbo whispered, pressing his forehead against Thorin’s. Thorin stared at Bilbo with wide eyes. “I knew you would fight it, the moment you were ensnared by the gold sickness.” Thorin’s arms tightened around Bilbo instinctively when he trembled in his grasp.

 

“I’m so sorr-”

 

“Like I said,” Bilbo interrupted him. “All is forgiven.” Thorin closed his eyes, tears trailing down his cheek at the unthinkable- unimaginable thing Bilbo was giving him. Forgiveness.

“You’re still a dunderhead.” Thorin wouldn’t dare hold back the smile that brought to him.

 

“ _Your_ dunderhead, if I am correct.” Bilbo gave one firm nod of his head in approval.

 

“And don’t you forget it.” Thorin chuckled lightly at the remark, loving the dazzling smile it brought to his hobbit’s face.

“Come on,” Bilbo urged, patting his shoulder. “Let’s go find your nephews and the others.”  Together they stood, and made their way to the towers, the little rock perch to their backs. Thorin’s very core tingled when Bilbo slid his hand into his, and squeezed teasingly.

They trudged over the ice covered lake, talking about the most efficient way to get Bilbo’s things to the mountain without him actually leaving the mountain, when they heard shouting.

Their heads both shot up, spotting Dwalin and Kili, who were supporting a hobbling Fili, while a soldier stood at their backs on the look out. At a glance up, the blonde elf of Mirkwood was being followed close behind him by a redhead elf.

 

_Ugh! It’s the one Kíli has a minor/major crush on….I hope she falls from the tower._

Once he thought that, Thorin noticed the way the two elves were jumping down the towers _closer_ to them, notching arrows as they ran.

 

“Uncle! Get down!”-Kíli

 

“Thorin, behind you!”-Dwalin

 

“Look out!”-Fíli

 

Thorin barely had time to turn around, when he was kicked forcibly to the side. His head hit the rocks, and he fell to the ground, helpless. Thorin struggled to focus his eyes on the creature who dared to attack him, and-

 

“BILBO!” Thorin’s ears heard Kíli’s pained scream, and his heart stuttered to a hault. There, with a mighty roar, Azog swung a mace at his burglar, hitting Bilbo right in the chest with a sickening crunch, and sending him flying through the air. Bilbo landed on his back, his hands flying to his chest where he no doubt had a few broken ribs, making his breathing difficult.

Bilbo gasped for air, writhing on the ground to try and defend himself from Azog who began to stock Bilbo like an animal would his prey. Azog gritted out what Thorin had thought to be black speech, till he realized they were actual Westron words. The language sounded foul, and twisted coming out of his mouth.

 

“You dare attack me, and mine. You shall pay for what you have done, haffling!” Azog lifted Bilbo’s letter opener out of his reach, and held it above ready to strike down at any moment. Thorin shoved himself off the ground, clutching the rocks behind him for support.

 

_Bilbo. Must get to Bilbo. Why does he only have that blasted butter knife to defend himself with?!_

 

“AH!” Bilbo’s pained cry had Thorin’s head snapping up to watch as Azog struck Bilbo’s leg with sting, going further and further into his leg and through the ice. Bilbo laid on the ground in misery, pinned by the sword. With a feral grin, Azog turned to Thorin who growled and lunged towards his defenseless hobbit, ready to defend and protect till his last breath.

 

“Now watch, haffling, as I kill your filthy dwarf.”

 

Thorin had just enough time to duck the mace thrown at his head, and met the swing of Azog’s arm. He swung at Azog’s legs, ducking at the sword that barely grazed his neck.

Swinging and dodging every blow thrown his way, Thorin finally say what Azog was doing. He was playing with him.

With a mighty shout, Thorin sliced at the back of Azog’s calf, reveling in the pained cry the orc let out when he hit. They continued dancing around the other, thrusting and parrying the others swing. Azog drove his arm up, threatening to stab through Thorin’s gut. Thorin swung his sword down and orcist caught in between the prongs of Azog’s blade. Thorin realized his mistake too late.

With a flick of his arm, Azog managed to get orcists out of Thorin’s hand. Thorin ducked when Azog swung his great arm at him, running under his legs and turning to kick Azog’s behind.

Azog screamed in rage, turning around faster than Thorin had thought, and gripped Thorin’s neck in his hand. Azog lifted Thorin off the ground, cutting of his airways, and leaving his feet to kick in the air as he tried to hit Azog in any available surface.

Azog laughed at his futile attempts to escape his hold, his fingers closing around his neck even more. Thorin heard the whistle of the arrow, and he watched as arrows flew through the air, hitting Azog in the back. Each arrow landed in places that should have brought the foul thing to the dirt where he belonged, but only further spurred him on in his antics.

 

"Now," Azog shouted. He spun around so Thorin was in the way of anymore on coming arrows, one which hit him in the leg.

 

“Sorry!” came Kili’s high pitch shout. Azog paid them no mind, enjoying the pain that flashed through Thorin’s features as Azog ripped the arrow out of his leg.

 

“Now, you die." Thorin clutched at the sickly, scared, white arm, trying with his might to get away. His head was spinning, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavier the longer he stayed in Azog’s grasp….well, one of the Azog’s, as he saw four in his vision.

 

"NO!" The thunderous, deep, roar caused the very ground beneath them to quake. Azog’s head whipped around at the cry, and Thorin would never forget the look on his face.

Azog went from furious, to terrified in less than a millisecond, as he slowly tried to slunk away from the floating hobbit in front of them.

There, hovering in the air with his arms outstretched, was Bilbo. Though his face was blank and expressionless the first time he had harnessed the fairy power, his face held nothing but rage.

“Release him!” Azog stopped in his tracks, his rebellious nature and proud ego kicking in. He difiantly squeezed tighter around Thorin’s neck. The white orc glared up at Bilbo, and shook his head, like a child refusing to give their parent a toy when asked.

Bilbo’s lips twitched up in a smirk, lowering his chin slowly to his chest while glaring at Azog who began to tremble again under the sheer power of Bilbo, and the realization that he might have just made a mistake.

“So be it.” Bilbo closed his right hand into a fist before quickly opening it back up again. With a pained cry, Azog’s fingers all snapped back to meet the back of his hand, breaking in the movement.

Thorin fell to the earth, gasping in heavy breaths of air while the wind began to pick up around him. He glanced back up in time to watch as Bilbo slowly began to raise his left hand, lifting Azog up simultaneously to meet his gaze.

 

“I will take your dwarf from you,” Azog spat at Bilbo, catching the hobbit off guard. “You will never see the life in him again. You will be alone!” Thorin watched the way Bilbo’s mouth dropped ever so slightly, the small pained gasp escaping his pale lips. With a ferocious growl, Bilbo’s expression became murderous. He flexed his hand, making Azog spasm in the air.

 

“Azog, the Defiler!” Bilbo’s voice boomed, loud enough that Thorin did not doubt that the dwarves back on the battlefield could hear him. “As long as Middle Earth is home to someone, you will never harm the line of Durin again!” Azog grinned up at him, and shouted above the winds.

 

“And how will you stop me, hafling?” Thorin held his breath as the wind suddenly stopped, and all noise ceased around them. With a smile of his own, Bilbo lowered his arms, and his glow fell away till he was nothing but his normal hobbity self.

 

“I was hoping you would ask.”

 

In one fluid motion, Bilbo flicked his hands up to his sides, palms facing Azog. Bilbo seemed to grow in size as his entire being flared in a brilliant green light. His body turned black, leaving his eyes and the space around him to glow a blinding, verdant green. Thorin squinted his eyes, shielding them with his hands to watch as Azog wailed in agony.

Azog’s entire body was shaking in the air while the winds picked up around them, biting at Thorin’s cheeks with it’s iciness. Azog twisted and folded in on himself, making noises that Thorin swore sounded like begging and pleading. Thorin stared at the scared back as it began to ever so faintly, glow a pale yellow. Bilbo flexed his hand out, and Azog’s body whipped back, his arms and legs shooting out spread eagle. The pale, white face looked up to the sky allowing Thorin to see what was happening to the thing. A small flame began to grow within the orc’s mouth, growing and spreading throughout him till his entire being burst into flame. Bilbo was burning Azog from within. As quickly as it happened, the flame, winds, and bright green light of his hobbit was gone, leaving them in a clouded darkness.

 

Thorin heaved, and opened his eyes to watch the clouds fall away and the mountain fill with light once more.

 

_Bilbo. Where is Bilbo?!_

Thorin’s eyes fled to the other side of the lake, finding the tiny creature laying on his back. Thorin had to fight back the strangled cry he felt build inside of him at the sight of his hobbit. So still, as if….

Thorin scurried over to Bilbo’s form, not allowing his thoughts to go any further on the ludicrous image of himself alone at a funeral that should never and will never happen.

Thorin finally made it to Bilbo, his hands unwilling to touch incase of inner injuries which he knew his hobbit had. He moved his ear to Bilbo’s mouth, exhaling a sigh of relief when he felt the warm breath ghost over the shell of his ear.

_He’s probably exhausted after using his powers. I need to get him down to Oín somehow._

 

“Thorin!” Dwalin’s crazed shout calmed Thorin in his panic. Panting, Dwalin came up behind him and inhaled sharply at the sight of Bilbo.

“Is ‘e-” Thorin shook his head viciously, clearing his throat and mind of the wretched thought.

 

“No. I believe he used to much of his power for one day. I fear he has some broken ribs, and other bones, and we need to get his leg seen to as swiftly as possible.” Dwalin jerked his head forward once. Thorin knew his friend was happy to hear of the hobbits safeness, even if he wouldn’t show it. He and Bilbo had fought side by side to protect Thorin the first time Azog struck. Though Bilbo had reached him first, Dwalin had explained that Orí was slipping off the tree branch, and Dwalin knew Bilbo could handle Azog on his own.

At some scuffling, Thorin turned in time to see the redhead and blonde elves from Mirkwood exchange a few words with Kíli, before jumping down the mountain.

 

“Yer alright?” Thorin nodded, glancing briefly at his leg, then up at his long life friend. Dwalin rolled his eyes, and looked up to three dwarves making their way slowly towards them. On the left was Kíli, supporting an angry looking Fíli in the middle. On Fíli’s left was a soldier, their weapon still drawn in cautiousness.

Thorin was tempted to run and tackle his eldest son for putting him through something so stressful, he knew he lost a decade worrying over him. The shielded warrior came up behind Fíli, and wacked him in the head. Thorin narrowed his eyes at the warrior, catching both the stranger and Fíli’s attention.

 

“Uncle, this is Leoláin, daughter of Dáin, shieldmaiden of the Iron Hills,” Fíli introduced, nodding his head back at her with approval. “She also saved my life after I fell.” The young maiden sheathed her sword and removed her helmet, letting her hair fall down like a chocolate waterfall. She brushed her very long, wavy hair behind her ears, and Thorin was surprised to see barely any facial hair upon her. She made Kíli look as if he had the longest beard known to dwarves. The shieldmaiden stepped forward and bowed more respectful than was needed for a woman of her status.

 

“Hail Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thror, King under the Mountain.” Thorin startled at the title given, then inclined his head to her greeting with the respect she deserved. “I am….well, I guess he already told you.” She pointed a glare at Fíli who shrugged at her with a grin, earning a tiny smack at the back of the head that the young maiden feigned innocence about. Thorin was beginning to like her more and more.

“I pray your friend is well?” She inclined to Bilbo who laid motionless, sides the weak rise and fall of his chest. Thorin turned back to watch his hobbit, about to answer her when little eyelids fluttered open. Thorin scrambled to help Bilbo, his hands floating uselessly over his body.

 

“Bilbo?” Bilbo smiled up at Thorin, eyes a glittering green, when Bilbo’s face contorted in pain. With a pained gasp, Bilbo gripped Thorin’s hand and squeezed with all his might. Thorin grunted over the pain, struggling to help take any relief off his hobbit. But, if that meant breaking his fingers, then so be it.

Bilbo settled into the ice, whimpering and begging for the pain to stop. Thorin could only watch uselessly, listening to Bilbo’s voice break as he pleaded for someone to end the suffering. Bilbo’s stuttered, uneven, harsh breaths scared Thorin, who began to fear the worst for his small hobbit.

 

“You will be okay, Bilbo,” Thorin hushed more to himself than to the hobbit, who began to ease in the ground, gritting his teeth in pain. “We’re going to get you help, and then you will rest and get better, and stay with me here, in the mountain.” Bilbo’s broken laugh sent fear through Thorin’s body. His hobbit slowly shook his head, coughing heartily into the air.

 

“Hold….me?” Bilbo begged. Thorin wanted to say no, knowing he could further injure the precious treasure within his reach.

“P-please?” Thorin couldn’t and wouldn’t deprive that voice of anything. Carefully, ever so carefully so as not to jostle Bilbo, Thorin lifted his priceless gem into his arms.

 

“D-dy-dying-”

 

“No, you’re not,” Thorin interrupted him harshly, refusing to even think that an option.

 

_There is no option! Bilbo will not die. What is dying? I don’t know. But whatever it is, Bilbo is not doing it!_

 

“You’ll be fine. A few broken ribs, and maybe a bit of scarring, but dwarves find scars rather attractive, but-”

 

“R-r-ram...bling,” Bilbo’s scolding voice cut Thorin off, something the dwarf was rather thankful for.

“Thorin,” Bilbo rushed out, the first word he had been able to say without stuttering or pausing for breath. “I-I-I’m...dy-ing-”

 

“Stop saying that. Why would you say that?!” Thorin’s pained voice cried out. “You are going to be fine.” Bilbo shook his head, inhaling in agony a ragged breath through his nose that made Thorin cringe at the sound.

 

“S-s-selfish….a-act,” he stuttered, blood spluttering out of the corner of his lips. Thorin’s brain wasn’t comprehending what that could possibly have to do with anything, and what act could Bilbo have made that would even be remotely considered selfish.

 

“What?” Thorin couldn’t help but bellow, eyes wide in panic as Bilbo struggled to breath in.

“You have done nothing wrong. You saved my nephews, kin, and home. You have saved me, and more than this once. You have done nothing but help others!” Bilbo let out a tiny whimper that Thorin thought had been caused by his temper, only to reel at the bone crunching noise from Bilbo’s feet. Thorin looked at Bilbo’s legs in horror. The hairy feet curled forward, as if all the bones had been crushed to smithereens.

 

“S-saved y-your….life.” Thorin stared down at the hobbit in shock and fear at what his burglar could be implying. Through stunted breaths, Bilbo whispered out a small phrase to Thorin that brought his world to crashing hault.

“C-c-can’t….li-live without….y-you. ….S-se-selfish.” Bilbo let out a wet laugh that morphed into a whimper as another bone crushing noise came from Bilbo’s legs. Thorin couldn’t muster the strength to look down and see the pain his hobbit had to be going through.

 

“That’s not selfish!” Kíli cried in outrage. “And what does Uncle Bilbo being selfish have anything to do with him dying, and what’s happening to his legs?” Thorin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the green emeralds below him. With hesitance, Thorin opened his mouth to explain to the bewildered dwarves behind him.

 

“Bilbo is a descendant of a fairy, known as Selfless.” With each of Bilbo’s struggled gasp, Thorin felt his eyes burn at the reality of what was going to happen to his hobbit. “A fairy will die if they do the opposite of what their name is. So, if Selfless, or a descendant of Selfless does something self _ish_ , their bones will be crushed on the inside till they-” Thorin cut off, unable to finish the dreaded curse of a fairy. Thorin had expected to hear his nephews reply first, but was startled when it was Dwalin.

 

“Well, tha’s just about the dumbest thing I ever ‘eard….and I’ve been with these idiots for their entire lives!” His joke wasn’t enough to pick up anyone’s spirits, or even phase his nephews who sat in silence at the thought of losing Bilbo.

Thorin had watched his two nephews, and Orí, become good friends with Bilbo over the journey, and they had all come to the fondness of calling Bilbo their Uncle, something that secretly brought Bilbo happiness though he feigned annoyance at the nickname.

Thorin glanced down at the hand he was holding, concentrating on his thumb that he kept grazing over the warm skin.

 

“But, that’s not selfish,” Fíli said aloud, like no one had already thought that. “He was technically saving you. If anything that’s selfless.” Bilbo pained whimper caught everyones attention. The hobbit shook his head as much as he could in his pain.

 

“I c-cou-couldn’t….l-l-live with….out h-h-him,” Bilbo’s pained explanation was worse than if Bilbo had simply stuck his hand in Thorin’s chest, yanked his heart out, and crushed it in front of his face.

 

“But why?” Thorin wailed, not able to contain himself when he heard the next bone crushing noise from one of his other legs, followed by a whimpering plea. “Why would you do that?” Bilbo’s lips quirked up just enough to call it a smile.

 

“Peo-ple do c-c-craz-y things,” he stuttered, eyes finding Thorin’s easily. “When they’re i-i-in love.” At those words, Thorin broke physically, mentally, and emotionally. His eyes closed, spilling the tears that had built up, while he leant over and kissed his hobbits forehead. He tried not to flinch at the other crunch from Bilbo’s hand.

 

_He can’t mean…. He doesn’t feel the same…. He loves me?_

 

Thorin felt his heart call out for his One who was slowly dying before his very eyes in the most painful way possible; and all he could do was sit, hold him, and cry.

 

“I love you too, my wonderful burglar.” Bilbo’s wet laugh at the old name made Thorin’s heart shatter at the fact that he was about to never see or hear that beautiful laugh again. Thorin heard sniffles from behind him, and the sound of feet scuffling over to someone else. He guessed that his youngest nephew was finding comfort with his eldest, as per usual when it came to the two of them.

At the last crunch, Bilbo shouted in agony, clenching his jaw tight to hold back his cries as both his arms were now paralyzed. Thorin moved his head side to side.

 

“What can I do?” he pleaded to anyone that was listening. He could feel Bilbo’s arm next to him, go limp and sluggish.

 

“S-s-sing?” Thorin glanced down at Bilbo who was trying desperately not to close his eyes.

 

 _Sing?_ Thorin slowly began to nod his head. _Okay, I can do that. I can do that. Sing…. Sing what?!_

From behind, Thorin heard the soft hum of Fíli’s voice before Kíli’s, Dwalin's, and even Leoláin’s voices joined in. It was a lullaby in Westron that was well known to dwarves, given the meaning behind the words in the song. With a steady breath, Thorin began to sing.

 

**_When I think of the memories,_ **

**_We shared long ago,_ **

**_There's a part deep within me,_ **

**_That wants you to know._ **

****

**_Though you left without warning,_ **

**_And we’re sad to say goodbye,_ **

**_I have faith that soon someday,_ **

**_You'll be by my side._ **

 

Thorin felt Bilbo’s breaths getting increasingly less as he continued singing, making him fear the inevitable future for his beloved hobbit. Thorin tried to relax when he noticed his shaking arms. With a gruff voice, he continued to sing for his beloved.

 

**_I promise you,_ **

**_I'll answer your plea._ **

**_I swear it's true,_ **

**_Just trust in me._ **

****

**_My love for you,_ **

**_Will always live on._ **

**_Like a song,_ **

**_A simple melody._ **

 

Bilbo gasped, shivering into Thorin’s side, before there was one last crunch that would haunt Thorin’s dreams. Then, Bilbo Baggins, went still, his eyes aimlessly staring at the sky.

No noise, or movement came from the hobbit as he laid in Thorin’s arms. Thorin shook his head, not believing that his hobbit was gone, and continued the song for his One, fulfilling his last wish. The others humming had stopped some time ago, but Thorin would carry on without them.

 

**_Ever since you just left me, here all alone,_ **

**_I remember, you told me what I should have known:_ **

**_‘Love last forever, every single day._ **

**_Never forget me, I’ll be on my way…’_ **

****

**_Sometimes, I think that I was hurt more_ **

**_because caring for you was never a chore._ **

**_Even if our love will be forgotten next year_ **

**_I will never forget you my dear_ **

****

Thorin heard the harsh, muffled sobs of his youngest nephew, and could only guess Fíli was of the same emotion, crying silently while comforting his brother. Thorin paid them no mind. His hobbit needed to hear the rest of the lullaby.

 

**_Even if I never get to see you,_ **

**_I’ll hope and I’ll pray,_ **

**_We’ll meet far away,_ **

**_And we’ll make a brand new start._ **

**_Say hello to the golden, shining ray._ **

**_Goodbye to those skies of gray._ **

**_Because I know we’ll start anew._ **

**_We’ll be together, just us two._ **

Thorin glanced down at Bilbo’s hand sprawled on the ground. It looked as if to hold something. Thorin went to see, continuing to sing to his sleeping hobbit.

**_Though we're apart_ **

**_You'll always be in my heart_ **

**_I'll dream of the day_ **

**_I travel your way_ **

**_And we make a brand new start_ **

 

In the tiny palm, roughly the size of a small coin of Erebor, was a little brown acorn. Thorin’s vision blurred with hot tears that threatened to spill. Voice shaking, and heart breaking, Thorin Oakenshield pushed through the last of the lullaby for his beloved, fearless hobbit that had given his life to save him.

 

**_Say hello to that golden, shining ray,_ **

**_Plant your trees today._ **

**_Because I know we’ll start anew._ **

**_We’ll be together, just us two._ **

Thorin’s voice broke at the last word that he had barely managed to whisper aloud. Suddenly, a horn sounded from the watch tower, startling Thorin to sit up and reach for orcist, till he recognized the haunting tune the horn was playing. Thorin glanced behind him and saw his nephews curled around each other, their shoulders shaking. Dwalin stood facing the towers, eyes red and face blank of emotion. Thorin followed his gaze and saw Leoláin at the mouthpiece of a large horn, blowing the notes to signal someone of royal importance, has passed.

 

_Bilbo has passed. My beloved, wonderful, undersized grocer that turned out to be the world’s greatest burglar, is dead. He’s gone._

  
And in that moment, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thror, forgot everything and everyone around him to mourn over the death of his hobbit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have all had a good start to 2015! It's so crazy to think it's already 2015....  
> Anyway, here's the second chapter. A couple things you should probably know before reading
> 
> -Mahal ships Thilbo, and all of his other children  
> -Mahal and Yavanna are divorced, but still really good friends  
> -I picture Mahal as a fun kinda guy, who likes to joke around all the time
> 
> I'm sorry it's taken so long! I couldn't figure out where to stop, and I don't know if where I did was good or not. I hope you guys like it!!
> 
> AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS!! I love them so much, and they mean a lot to me!! :)

Thorin had felt many things in his life. He had felt exhaustion, hunger, cheated, blessed, loved, happiness, and many more things. But never in his life had Thorin ever felt so much heartache, so much loss, and so much anger.

Thorin wept aloud for the life of his ghivashel that had been taken from him, after he had barely been given it yet again.

 

_This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be dead. He can’t be dead!_

 

Thorin didn’t know how long he wept over Bilbo’s body, hearing the answering trumps of the horns in Dale, and Erebor reply to the mourning tune of someone of importance. The horns continued to play in mourning of the fallen that littered the battlefield.

Thorin’s throat felt wrecked, and it hurt to say anything, but that didn’t stop him as he continued to weep over the body of his One. He heard the scuffle and shouts of familiar voices coming over the rocks.

 

"Bofur, you nut, wait for me!"- Nori

 

"We can still save 'em!"- Oín

 

"Let's go, lads!"- Dori

 

"Dwalin!"- Ori

 

"Thorin! Dwalin!"- Balin

 

"Come on!"- Gloín

 

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!"- Bombur

 

"Bilbo! Bilbo, where are you?!"- Bofur

 

The collective gasp had Thorin looking up and across the lake. All of his companions had some minor injuries, but had tredged the hike up to them at the horn call. Bofur was pale in the face, slowly walking up to them, Nori and the others close behind. Tears and disbelief were in all of their eyes, and Thorin tried in vain to keep his stoic appearance for his friends, to be the strong leader like he was supposed to be, and had been on their journey.

 

_You were only a good leader because of the person who had stood beside you these past few months._

 

Thorin's small sob broke many of his friends as they quietly mourned their friend, and it dawned on him that Bilbo had indeed become good friends with all of them.

Bilbo had been the one to stand the numerous stories from Gloín about his wife and son. Bilbo discussed different healing plants with Oín, and had always been patient with him and his hard of hearing. Bilbo would always be the first to offer to help Bombur with the meals, where they shared tips, and stories. Bilbo had discussed dwarven mythology with Dori and Balin, who had been delighted to share their knowledge with a new pupil. Bilbo had patiently had many conversations with Bifur, and Bifur had said many a times how they were the highlights of his day. Bilbo and Ori had gotten along after they had shared their love of literature, and Ori had promised to not explore the Ereborian libraries without Bilbo when they arrived. Bilbo had Nori help him learn some pickpocketing tricks, which the dwarf was only to happy to help him with. And then there was Bofur.

Bofur had been the first one to fully except Bilbo as a member of the company almost the moment they met, and they had been good friends since. Thorin remembered being extremely jealous of the dwarf at Beorn’s, before realizing that Bilbo, was in fact, helping him talk to Nori, his One. Thorin felt ashamed afterwards, but had been convinced that the hat wearing dwarf had stolen the hobbit for his own. It wasn’t until Lake Town, where Bilbo and himself had shared their fondness for each other, that Thorin had felt at ease.

 

_He loved me…._

Balin had gently patted Thorin’s shoulder, then moved to his nephews and enveloped them in a hug. Bombur, Bifur, Dori, Gloín, and Oín came up and kneeled in front of Bilbo as a sign of respect, then made their way to the side by the others. Ori, crying, ran straight to Dwalin, who wrapped his arms around the tiny librarian and sighed in relief at the sight of him, his own tears spilling from his eyes.

Bofur walked up to Thorin , Nori close behind him. The dwarf slowly removed his hat from his head, and stopping in front of Bilbo’s and Thorin’s bodies. With a sniffle, the dwarf grabbed something from his pocket and handed it to Thorin. He carefully held out his hand, and Bofur dropped the small, cool, and very familiar bead into his open palm. Thorin stared in horror at his bead, quickly checking the hobbit to find the braid of intention he had done in his hair, was indeed gone.

 

“Bilbo slipped that into my pocket, before he climbed down the rope,” Bofur explained, pulling out a small piece of paper in his other pocket. “He left a note for us both. One to tell me to give you the bead when you snapped out of the gold sickness, and the other is for you. I was going to give you these back in Erebor, but I got caught up in the excitement of breaking down the gate, and," Bofur paused, clearing his throat. "I had hoped that I would be able to give it back to Bilbo, so he could give it to you.” Thorin carefully took the note. Thorin would notice the elegant handwriting on it anywhere, and it pained him to think that his Bilbo would never be able to write the wonderful books he had told Thorin about.

“I’m really sorry, Thorin,” the dwarf told him earnestly, his voice as loud as a whisper. “He loved you, more than anyone, more than life.” Thorin shut his eyes, nodding his head, and looking down at the crumbled piece of paper in his hand. Bofur stood, and walked over to Nori who took him into his embrace. Ever so slowly, Thorin opened it.

 

**Thorin,**

**I know I am probably the last person you would like to hear from, but you will hear from me none the less. I pray that you will wake from the gold sickness before I have someone give you this, but in case you do not, I want you to know that I am sorry. Sorry for taking your rock, and breaking my promise to you. If you do anything rash, which I hope you don’t, I also forgive you, you dunderhead. I will forever be yours, Thorin, but, it is hard to be compared to gold. Something so dead, and in the end entirely worthless compared to your friends, your family, the people you LOVE!**

**I give you back your bead, not because I don’t love you, or think deep down you love me any less, but I will not be pushed to the side, only to wait and be called upon when your gold does not satisfy you fully. Thorin I took my braid out the day Smaug fell, and many times I ran into you! But you didn't notice me.**

**I will wait for the day you come to me as the Thorin I fell in love with on this suicidal adventure, ready to rebraid that bead into my hair. That is, of course, if you ever feel that way again. Just know, I love you, Thorin Oakenshield. I didn’t know it till  I had my dream, that very night we shared together in Laketown. Just know, I love you, and I always will. I will wait for you, for as long as it takes you to come back to me.**

**But, do hurry. I miss you.**

**Love, Bilbo**

**P.S. I am still sorry about the Arkenstone. I know it was a selfish act, but I just want you to be safe.**

Thorin was grateful he had been able to finish the letter before his vision completely blurred. He gently placed the letter into his pocket, and rubbed at his stinging eyes, reaching for strands of Bilbo’s hair. He redid the braid, sliding his bead into place at the end before tying it off. Thorin looked down at his hobbit, and the anger and sorrow began to build inside of him threatening to spill over.

 

_It wasn’t selfish! The blasted hobbit was trying to protect me._

 

Thorin slammed his fist into the ice, lifting his head up to the sky.

 

“It wasn’t selfish!” Thorin screamed as loud as he could. “Do you hear me?! It wasn’t his fault.” Thorin’s voice broke as he began to sob again. His sobs were harsh, and ragged. He couldn’t even fathom that his hobbit, his One, his precious Bilbo, was gone.

Choking on a sob, Thorin looked out amongst the rock and ice that surrounded them. In a whisper, Thorin looked down to his hobbit and continued to weep. Thorin tensed at the hand on his shoulder, before giving up, and letting his tears roll down his beard.

 

“I’m so sorry, laddie,” Balin’s small voice was little to no comfort to Thorin. He felt so empty inside. So cold, and alone now. He felt like he was in agony. Sparing a glance at Balin, Thorin’s pained whisper sounded like a shout over the silence that had settled.

 

“Why does it hurt so much?” Thorin’s broken question had Balin glancing around the company, his eyes landing on every member who had found his chosen One. Balin finally turned back to Thorin, peering down at Bilbo in sympathy and sorrow.

 

“Because it was real.” That was the last thing Thorin had wanted to hear. He struggled to keep back the wail that was rising in his throat, all but choking on it.

 

“Will it ever go away,” Thorin asked, practically begging Balin-who had lost his One in Moria when she had been fighting to get to him-to tell him that it would eventually go away. When Balin’s expression did not change, Thorin wanted to run away from everything as he squeezed his eyes tight, letting even more tears spill over.

 

“I won’t lie to you, Thorin,” Balin sighed, looking back at his younger brother who was comforting his One while he cried. “It doesn’t fully go away. Soon, you’ll become numb, and you just get used to it.” Thorin had a new sense of respect for his friend, having to have delt with this kind of pain for so long. He shook his head, turning back to brush his braid behind Bilbo’s adorable pointy ear. His heart mourned for the adorable chuckle of his One when something brushed against his ear, remembering his time in Laketown with his hobbit.

 

*** _flashback***_

 

**_“Thorin,” Bilbo giggled, pulling back from Thorin’s fingers that had brushed against the point of his ear while he was braiding his braid into his hair. Thorin smiled at Bilbo, who was sitting on his lap. They were alone in a room provided by the Master of Laketown, listening to the the others party outside._ **

**_Thorin chuckled at his One’s giggles, as he brushed his fingers against the shell of his ear again._ **

****

**_“I didn’t know you were ticklish there.” Thorin chuckled again at the scowl he received from the hobbit. His hobbit._ **

****

**_“I am not ticklish anywhere,” Bilbo argued haughtly, sticking his little button nose up in the air. Thorn raised an eyebrow at him, smirking at the worried crease that appeared in Bilbo’s forehead._ **

**_“What are you-”_ **

****

**_“So you say you’re not ticklish anywhere?” Bilbo started to scoot away from Thorin across the big, comfortable bed; but that didn't stop Thorin as he calmly crawled after him._ **

****

**_“No. No, no, no, no, no. You-you get away. I’ll kick your bloody face, Thori-Thorin!” Bilbo squealed. Thorin was on top of him, his fingers at his sides, and tickling him mercilessly. “Ah! Stop! Please!” Bilbo wheezed, laughing as he was tickled. Thorin chuckled along with him,  smiling down at his One while he continued to laugh._ **

**_“Hahaha! Thorin!” Thorin finally conceded, moving his arms up to the sides of Bilbo’s face. Bilbo’s laugh slowly died away, leaving them both smiling at each other. Thorin couldn’t help running his hand down the side of Bilbo’s face, stopping to cup his cheek. Bilbo leaned into his hand, closing his eyes with a small smile on his face._ **

****

**_“I love you,” Thorin blurted, then mentally punching himself at his straightforwardness. Bilbo’s eyes snapped open, finding Thorin’s. His little mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’, and Thorin quickly tried to fix the nice moment they were having._ **

**_“I mean….you have ears.” Thorin wanted to hide in the deepest, darkest cave where no one could find him._ **

**_Bilbo gave a startled laugh, shaking his head fondly. Thorin groaned, looking away from his One ashamed, and was thinking of different ways to excuse himself, when a small hand tugged his beard._ **

****

**_“Thorin, look at me.” Thorin slowly turned his head to fully face Bilbo’s, but keeping his eyes locked on the collar of Bilbo’s shirt._ **

**_“Thorin.” Thorin finally met Bilbo’s eyes at that tone, and was stunned to find a soft smile on his lips. “You dunderhead.” Thorin’s mouth dropped open, speechless at the insult. He was about to protest his displeasure at the slight, when soft lips silenced his. Thorin smiled into it, pleasantly surprised by the kiss. When they pulled away, Bilbo began to play with Thorin's hair, his eyes seeming to be calculating something._ **

**_“How do you know you love me? Not that I’m displeased by your proclamation,” Bilbo rushed, easing Thorin’s agitation at the question._ **

****

**_“Well,” Thorin began, turning to fiddle with the braid in Bilbo’s hair. “When Mahal created the dwarves, he took our souls, and split them into two separate beings. When a dwarf finds their other half, they’ve found, what us dwarves consider, your One. Every dwarf has a One, and the moment they see them, they know.” Bilbo smiled, then frowned._ **

****

**_“If you know exactly who your ‘One’ is,” Bilbo began slowly, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “Why don’t you just go up to them, and be like, ‘Excuse me, my sweet dwarf,’” Bilbo acted, dropping his voice an octave lower than his norm, and startling a small laugh from Thorin. “‘You are my One, so let’s go into the next room, and do the dance with no pants.’” Bilbo wiggled his eyebrows seductively, thrusting his hips up a little. Thorin’s thunderous laugh would probably be able to be heard outside, and brought a grin to Bilbo’s face as he chuckled along with him._ **

****

**_“I can’t believe you just said that!” Thorin roared, rolling off Bilbo, and onto his back. Bilbo crawled on top of him, straddling Thorin’s waist._ **

****

**_“Well, it does make one wonder,” Bilbo argued, still smiling down at Thorin while his laughter slowly died down. “I mean, if you can tell just by looking at them, then you should now right away.” Thorin nodded, sliding his arm up and down the hobbit’s arm._ **

****

**_“As true as that should be, some have unfortunately found that though they believe they have found their One, their supposed One might not feel the same for them. So, that would be like if Bofur had gone up to Nori professing his love, and Nori had told him he actually had feelings for….oh, let’s say….Nori had said he found his One in-”_ **

****

**_“Me?” Bilbo offered, trying to help Thorin come up with a name. Thorin glared at Bilbo._ **

****

**_“Don’t even joke about that.” Bilbo made a small noise, nodding his head in understanding. “It would be more like Nori saying he liked Bifur. You’re never sure if the person you think is your One, feels the same about you. It’s heartbreaking, to be rejected by your One.” Bilbo frowned, his cute little eyebrows furrowing in the center. Bilbo’s face smoothed out as a thought seemed to cross his mind._ **

**_“What is on your mind,  ghivashel?” Bilbo’s nose twitched in a way that made Thorin’s insides flutter. Bilbo looked suddenly nervous, avoiding Thorin’s gaze._ **

****

**_“Am I your….”_ **

****

**_“Are you my One?” Thorin finished for him, catching Bilbo’s eye before it darted away again. “Yes.” Bilbo inhaled deeply, smiling. He bit his lip nervously._ **

****

**_“When did you-”_ **

****

**_“The moment you opened your door.” Bilbo huffed a small laugh at his quick response. “I was just worried the entire time you were with us, because I had no idea if you felt the same, and I didn’t know if I could keep you safe. It is one thing to be rejected by your One, it is another to see your One die. I couldn’t guarantee your safety,” Thorin whispered, brushing Bilbo’s curls to the side. “And I’m afraid in my fear, I became rash, and quite rude.” Bilbo nodded his head, making a noise of agreement, and earning a jab at his side. The hobbit jumped slightly, giggling at Thorin. Thorin chuckled, before giving an exhausted sigh._ **

**_“Then I thought you loved Bofur.” Bilbo burst into a fit of laughter, making Thorin annoyed at how funny his hobbit thought this was. “Bilbo, it’s not funny.” Bilbo wiped his eyes of his imaginary tears, still laughing like a little maniac._ **

****

**_“It’s actually quite hilarious,” Bilbo argued, jabbing Thorin in his chest. “You were jealous of Bofur! Of all things, you were jealous! And of Bofur!” The very thought set Bilbo off again, and Thorin was getting very fed up with his beloved._ **

**_“Oh, you’re so silly.” Bilbo smiled down at Thorin, and Thorin felt all the irritation leave him in a breath. Thorin settled back into the mattress, placing his hands behind his head._ **

****

**_“What about hobbits,” Thorin wondered. Bilbo settled on Thorin’s chest, placing his chin on his fists. “How do you know when you have fallen in love?”_ **

****

**_“Well, not everyone gets them, but Yavanna blessed a few to have a dream,” Bilbo explained. At Thorin’s face of distaste, Bilbo chuckled. “No, I mean….ugh. A hobbit can be very fond of someone, so fond it’s almost considered love. In fact, a lot of hobbits just marry the people they are fond of, because they don’t always get the dream.” Thorin cocked his head to the side, intrigued._ **

**_“But, those who do have a dream, are said to have seen themselves with their love, doing something together. It could be as simple as lying in your lovers arms outside, while they sing you to sleep.” Thorin smiled at the fond, faraway look Bilbo got while describing the dreams._ **

**_“And sometimes, the dreams can even come true; but once you have the dream, you know you’ve found your love.”_ **

****

**_“That doesn’t seem very reliable,” Thorin commented, trying not to be demeaning of the hobbit. “I mean you could have a dream about anyone. Dreams are strange things, ghivashel.” Bilbo shook his head, his lips still twerked up in a fond smile._ **

****

**_“No, these- these dreams, they’re different. When you dream, there’s a light around your love, so bright, and yet it’s more beautiful, and radiant than the sun. And the moment you wake up,” Bilbo whispered, his voice soft and light like a cloud. “You have this burning desire to see them. Just to be assured, that they’re really real, and not just a dream.” Thorin couldn’t fight the urge to kiss his One any longer as he talked of these love dreams, and reveled in the smile it brought to both their lips._ **

****

**_“Have you had a-”_ **

****

**_“No, and I most likely never will,” Bilbo rushed, shaking his curls about. “But, I have grown quite fond of someone on an adventure I’ve recently become apart of.”_ **

****

**_“Oh?” Thorin smirked, raising his eyebrow at the cheeky grin Bilbo gave him. “And who is this person? I might have to dispose of them.” Bilbo chuckled, running his fingers through Thorin’s hair._ **

****

**_“I’ll give you a hint. His name is” Bilbo teased, leaning over to whisper in Thorin’s ear. “Bofur.”_ **

****

**_“I beg your pardon!” Bilbo’s head fell to Thorin’s shoulder, laughing uncontrollably._ **

**_“You insufferable hobbit.” Bilbo chuckled, bopping Thorin’s nose with his finger._ **

****

**_“At your service, sir.” Thorin shook his head fondly, repositioning them both to rest more comfortably on the bed. He pulled the covers over them, moving Bilbo flush against his his chest, and wrapping his arms snug around the hobbit._ **

**_“Hey, Thorin?” Bilbo called, voice laden with sleep._ **

****

**_“Yes, ghivashel,” Thorin asked through his yawn, reaching over Bilbo to blow out the candle. He settled back into the bed, snuggling with his One._ **

****

**_“If we survive this,” Bilbo started, waking Thorin up at his sudden depressing thoughts. “Can you promise me something?”_ **

****

**_“Depends on what it is.” Thorin could feel how tense Bilbo was, and Thorin felt quick to help relax his One in anyway he could._ **

****

**_“Promise me that nothing will come between us.” Bilbo was practically asleep, and Thorin couldn’t help kissing his soft curls, sleep starting to take over him as well._ **

****

**_“When we survive Smaug,” Thorin said,  determined to stay positive. “Nothing will be able to take you from me. Now, good night, beloved.”_ **

_***end of flashback***_

 

Thorin felt his eyes burn with new pain at the memory, wanting so badly to have his One alive like he should be. He had broken his promise, twice. He had allowed himself to be ensnared by the gold lust, letting gold and the arkenstone to come between them. And then, Thorin wasn't able to stop death from separating them.

“Mahal. Yavanna. Anyone who can help, just please,” he begged. “Please help him. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault.” Thorin leaned down to press his and Bilbo’s foreheads together. “Bilbo, I….I’m so sorry.” Thorin looked back up at the sky, loathing the way it was still a nice day with the clouds overhead.

 

_Bilbo loved days like these._

 

Thorin glared at the clouds with the best Durin’s glare he could muster.

“It’s not his fault,” he growled, voice dangerously low. “Please. I’ll do anything. Give anything. Just, please,” he begged staring down at Bilbo, then up at the sky. Thorin didn’t know what he was waiting for, but when it didn’t come, Thorin grew desperate.

“Please!” Thorin pleaded, his voice building into the massive roar it was. Thorin finally felt the fight run out of him as he slumped to the ground, careful of the priceless cargo in his hands.

“Please,” Thorin whispered, begging to no one. “Help him.”

Thorin was hunched over his beloved's face, his hair shielding them both from the terrible, and unfair world around them.

"Please."

 

The first thing Thorin felt, was the small tremor in the ground. Thorin had feared the worms had come back, when the shaking grew. The rumble in the earth was stronger than the footsteps of Smaug the dragon when he walked through Erebor. Thorin could recall an earth tremor when he was a young boy, but this was deeper, and mightier. He could hear the rocks fall from the crumbling buildings of Raven Hill as they shook, and the startled shouts of his friends as they were knocked off balance by the force.

 

"Leoláin!" Fíli's feared cry had Thorin turning his head up to the last place he had seen the shield maiden. Hanging from the ledge was Leoláin, a large bolder having crushed the horn and area she had been not a few moments ago. The young girl clung to the wall as everything around them shook.

"Hold on, Leoláin!"

 

"Uncle," Kíli  begged, falling off the rock that he was sitting on with Fíli.

 

"Kíli!" Fíli growled as he was dragged down with Thorin's youngest nephew. The other outraged cries from his company had Thorin looking as they all began to fall over to the ground from the still shaking earth. Thorin watched as everything around him continued to shake, gazing at one of the towers that crumbled to the ground, turning to dust.

 

 _Like my heart_ , Thorin thought with a nod of his head. He looked down at his lifeless hobbit. His eyes glassy, empty of the light it once carried.

 

"Thorin!" Dwalin shouted, falling to the ice with Ori, after a mighty shake. Across the lake, the rocks began to break apart with a thunderous crack. "We need to get out of 'ere! Now!" Dwalin suddenly was pushed from behind when Nori fell, accidentally running into Bombur.

Bombur stumbled to stay up, but ended up falling on Fíli in the process.

 

"AH!" Fíli screamed in pain, sitting up and clutching his hurt leg that Bombur had landed on.

"Ugh, you stupid- Get off my leg, fat ass!"

 

"Watch your mouth, brat!" The rocks across the lake continued to break apart, falling in to the earth. One large piece of stone fell out onto the ice, releasing the water beneath it to flow over the broken pieces of ice. The ice cracked up half way towards where Thorin and Bilbo were. Thorin didn't care, bending over his One to hopefully be with him. No matter how hard he tried, Thorin couldn't find it in him to move away from his spot.

 

_How can I leave him-how can I put him down?!_

 

Thorin looked up at the sound of what he thought were tree branches snapping. Up above, on the cold, hard ground, a large tree was sprouting from the dirt. The tree grew and grew, branching out into a beautiful oak tree.

 

_The type Bilbo's acorn would have turned into..._

 

Thorin felt fresh tears in his eyes at the thought, but were quickly wiped away at the astounding thing that began to happen. The tree continued to grow bigger,  and a small door like structure formed at the trunk of the tree. The door swung out wide, letting out a smell of freshness that reminded Thorin of a little town he had stopped in at the beginning of his journey to pick up his supposed burglar. Thorin glared at the door, when out stepped a tiny, chubby creature.

Her lime colored skin showed off the dark green veins in her body, that swirled. Her long, brown hair was braided down her back, looking as sturdy as the tree trunk she came out of. Little flowers littered the braid, all the way down to the ground that it brushed against as she swayed. She had a crown of exotic flowers. She had pointy ears like the hobbit below him, and huge feet with hair on them, too. She wore a long, billowy, dark green dress, that looked very elvish in Thorin's opinion, but fit her very nicely. Her big, amber eyes brought warmth and life to Thorin that he could not explain when he gazed upon them. The small being walked gracefully down the quaking rocks, not swaying or stumbling once, and Thorin saw how fresh grass and little flowers grew right where she walked, creating a sturdy pathway of greenery.

The creature glanced from Bilbo and Thorin, pain crossing her face. She held her hand out to them, moving to help them. She stilled in her movements, turning to the hole in the rock, and that's when Thorin noticed that the earth had gone still again. A giant rocky arm emerged from the hole, and then the ground stopped it’s shaking. With some grunts, and groans, a big, rocky creature emerged from the hole. He was as tall as Gandalf, and as broad as the big bell in Erebor Thorin and his friends had used to break down the barricade. He was entirely made of stone. His outfit that looked much like the garb a dwarf would wear, was intricately carved, and he had a hammer swung up on his back. He had a mighty, rocky beard and hair that was partially hidden beneath his rock helmet. His eyes were the colors of a hot forge, and his whole being ranged in different shades of greys, and blacks.

Thorin felt his mouth drop open at the sight of his maker, and heard the agreeing shock of his companions behind him. Mahal rose his rock eyebrows in greeting, and Thorin was shocked at the eyeroll Mahal received by the green-elf creature.

Mahal took one step off the rocks, and fell head first through the lake below him. Thorin, and his companions looked at the spot their maker had vanished into, the water spraying and sloshing everywhere.

 

"Well," Nori said, grabbing everyone's attention. "You don't see that everyday."

The tiny creature roared in laughter, pointing at the water while she held her stomach in her hysterics. He laughter only grew at the sight of Mahal. Mahal reappeared from the water, spitting up some inhaled water, and glaring at the tiny creature who walked closer to him.

 

“I can’t believe you fell in!” the creature roared, her voice sweet and sounding like peaceful rain falling. She laughed and watched as Mahal began to step up out of the water. Thorin noticed how under Mahal’s feet, a rock way formed much like the smaller creatures green pathway. Mahal scowled at the creature as she continued to laugh.

“You always did know how to make an entrance. HAHA!” Mahal stomped up to her, rock forming beneath every step he took.

 

“Says you!” he barked, his voice low and gravely. “Popping out of trees in the middle of a place where trees look stupid.” The creature stopped laughing instantaneously, her face going serious.

 

“Trees are never stupid, and besides I would rather come out of a tree than a hole,” she remarked, a smile growing on her face. “And at least I didn’t fall into the water!” The small creature was off again, laughing uncontrollably at Mahal.

 

“Ugh! I don’t understand how I fell! I shouldn’t have even hit the water, with the rock that grows beneath me.” Mahal looked extremely put out as he gazed at his feet where rock had formed, creating a thick bed of rock on top of the ice. The other creature giggled.

 

“Even though your head is made of rocks, the rocks form where you step with your feet. You, fortunately, fell in head first.” Mahal growled, grabbing his hammer and smashing it into the ice. The lake was covered in a solid layer of rock instantaneously, and Thorin knew it would remain intact forever, even when the snow and ice melted in spring. With a satisfied hum, Mahal swung his hammer back onto his back and looked at the small creature.

 

“Take that, Yavanna,” Mahal taunted, making a face at her. Yavanna rolled her eyes, and looked back to Thorin and Bilbo. Mahal looked as well, his expression softening into deep sympathy for Thorin.

 

"Oh, my OTP," Mahal mourned, looking about as put out as the company members. No one could look as wrecked as Thorin was.

 

“Child of Mahal,” Yavanna called out to Thorin, motioning to the mighty rock man next to her in explanation. “What has happened?” Before Thorin could respond, his friends stepped up and kneeled.

 

“Hail Mahal, creator of dwarves,” Balin called out, the others repeating him. Mahal preened at the praise, standing taller in his spot.

 

“Oh for Eru’s sake,” Yavanna groaned, placing her fingertips on her forehead.

 

“Oh, come now, Anna,” Mahal said cheerfully, looking down at the dwarves in front of him. “Just because my children respect me, while your hobbits do nothing, doesn’t mean you have to get all salty.” Before Yavanna could protest, Thorin beat her to it.

 

“Hobbits do not not do anything.” Mahal turned his attention to Thorin, his eyebrows raised in shock. “Hobbits give thanks to Yavanna at every meal, and hold a harvest festival where they offer up a food sacrifice every year in her honor.” Mahal shrugged, unimpressed, while Yavanna nodded her head in approval.

 

“Your name, young dwarf,” she asked, glancing down at Bilbo then back up at Thorin. With as best of a bow as he could muster sitting on the ground with a hobbit in his arms, Thorin leaned over and cleared his throat.

 

“Thorin, son of Thraín, son of Thror.” She smiled, looking up at the mountain.

 

“King under the mountain?” Thorin solemnly nodded his head. Yavanna’s smile dropped along with Mahal’s and they glanced at each other.

 

“My son,” Mahal called out, coming up to kneel in front of Thorin. “Why have you called upon us?”

 

“My One has been wrongfully taken from me,” Thorin rushed, looking at his beloved hobbit. “He has done something that should only have given him a few broken ribs, at most, yet you have taken him from me.” Thorin glared at Yavanna, all but accusing her of Bilbo’s death. “His acts were not selfish. They were noble, brave, and foolish at best.” Yavanna breathed a sigh of someone who was carrying a heavy burden.

 

“I am sorry for your lose,” she said slowly, making Thorin hate her voice. “But, I cannot-”

 

“Is this about that blasted fairy bull shit?” Mahal demanded, rearing on Yavanna. The creator stood her ground, glaring back at Mahal in defiance.

 

“No. This is about how a descendant of one of our fairies, went and broke the rule.” Mahal slouched forward, throwing his head up to face the sky.

 

“I _hate_ that rule!” Yavanna scowled at him. “It was so stupid, especially on poor Selfless out of all of them!” Yavanna glowered up at Mahal.

 

“How?”

 

“That poor girl couldn’t do anything, but be others slave so she wouldn't break that blasted rule! I was surprised she was able to get married and have something good in her life, without being considered selfish for taking up to much happiness for herself!”

 

“Well, she lived a pretty long life for most of our children!”

 

“Yeah, but she died when she was in mourning, and one of your rock headed hobbits had to come ask her to do something, and she refused!” Mahal roared, making some of the dwarves back away in fear. Ori tripped on a rock, and fell to the ground, landing on his wrist. With a hiss, Ori clutched his hand to his chest gingerly, but he had already caught the attention of everyone.

“Are you okay?” Mahal asked, genuine concern lacing his voice, so different from his thunderous shouts from earlier, that Thorin had to glance back up at the creator to see if he was the same one. Mahal quickly glanced over the other dwarves, taking inventory over their injuries. With a wave of his hand, Thorin felt refreshed and healthy. His leg had been healed, and behind him he could hear the sounds of gratitude.

 

“Thanks, Mahal,” Bofur said, rubbing at his head were a nasty gash had been. Mahal smiled down at them and nodded. Thorin looked to Yavanna, who stood still looking sour at her husband.

 

“I beg of you, please heal him.” Yavanna sighed, and shook her head.

 

“You must understand,” she began, ruining Thorin’s hope. “You are not simply asking me to heal him. You are asking me to bring him back from the dead, which is an impos-”

 

“Don’t you say that,” Mahal scolded, waggling his finger at her in disapproval. “You know full well you can bring him back. It’s technically your fault he’s in this whole mess.” Yavanna scowled at him.

 

“He committed a selfish act, therefore, he broke the rules-”

 

“But he didn’t!” Thorin raged at her. Yavanna didn’t care about his sudden outburst, rather taking pity on him instead.

 

“In your opinion, he did not.” Thorin glared at her. “I am sorry, but I cannot change-”

 

“Will you stop saying that?!” Everyone turned to Mahal, who looked like he was about to take out his hammer and start beating something at any moment. “Just change the stupid rule, Anna, so none of this crap ever happens again!”

 

“Fine!” Yavanna shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. “It is done! The rule is no more, but that does not change Bilbo’s state, for the rule was still valid while he was alive.”

 

“But, please-”

 

“Just bring him back, Anna,” Mahal interrupted Thorin, looking tired by the entire ordeal. Yavanna growled at him, punching him in the arm. Mahal made a small pained noise, gingerly rubbing at his arm with a pout.

 

“You know it tires me out to the point where I pass out of exhaustion, and there has to be a balance! I cannot bring him back, and leave everything uneven. There must be a life taken, for his to return.” Mahal winced at the forgotten tidbit, scratching his head awkwardly.

 

“Then take mine.” The company went in uproar at Thorin’s offer, but Thorin held his ground.

“It was my life that should have been taken by Azog, not his.” Mahal put his hand up to Thorin, silencing him.

 

“You will not throw your life away like that, after your One has given his to keep you alive,” Mahal said. Thorin opened his mouth to protest, when Bofur stepped up to the two creators.

 

“Take mine, ma’am,” Bofur said.

 

“No!” Nori’s horrified gasped whisper, didn’t turn Bofur’s head. Nori made a dash to Bofur, but was stopped by Bombur and Bifur, who held him back with pained expressions of sympathy. Nori looked at the two in confusion, before looking up at his One’s back in terrible understanding.

“Bofur," he called, trying to get his attention. "Bofur, please!”

 

“Bofur, get back, now,” Thorin growled, not about to let a dear friend sacrifice his happiness with his One for him. Bofur whipped around, his hat going a little crooked to the side.

 

“You’re not the only one who cared for him! He was my friend too!”

 

“Enough!” Mahal bellowed, silencing them all. “Bofur, my son, I am proud of your courage to sacrifice for you friend; but, think of what you would be putting your One through.” Bofur’s defiant look deflated when he stared back at Nori. Nori looked absolutely heartbroken.

Bofur made to move closer to him, but Nori wrenched himself out of Bombur and Bifur’s grasp, and stormed over to his older brother, keeping his back to everyone around him. Mahal pouted at the couple, turning back to Yavanna who looked at the pair in sadness.

“Now look what you’ve done! You’ve managed to muck up another of my Ships in less than an hour!” Yavanna huffed at his accusation.

 

“That’s right, blame me for everything that goes wrong in your life, right?” Mahal groaned in frustration.

 

“I do not always blame you for things that go wrong, Yavanna! I just don’t see why you can’t just do it without the life?!”

 

“There needs to be a balance,” Yavanna explained, sounding like she had been saying it for the whole conversation. Mahal grumbled under his breath.

 

“Okay, wait,” he said, straining his head like he was listening for something. “Yep, an old man just died. Now bring him back.” Yavanna rubbed at her tired eyes.

 

“You know that doesn’t count!”

 

“And why not?!”

 

“Do you see her, Kí?” Fíli whispered, catching Thorin’s attention from the fighting couple. Thorin saw Kíli shake his head, peering at the towers.

 

“I don't have a good view....” Kíli trailed off, jumping on top of the rock he and Fíli occupied. Kíli's face grew white as he remained silent, staring at the crumbled towers.

 

“What is it?” Fíli’s panicked voice caught the attention of the two bickering creators.

 

“I see her hammer, but….” Kíli trailed off again. Fíli jumped up from his seat and began to run towards the towers.

 

“Leoláin!”

 

“You have two creators in front of you, boy,” Mahal said to Fíli, who was struggling to fight against the many hands that held him back from finding the missing shieldmaiden. “And, all you can do is call out for some girl?” Fíli whipped his head around to _glare_ at Mahal.

 

 _Oh, no_ , Thorin thought, mentally smacking his hand against his forehead.

 

“That is not a _girl_ ,” Fíli argued, fighting to get to Mahal. “Leoláin is a woman. A strong, shieldmaiden of the Iron Hills. So, forgive me, makers, if I look for a friend who I honor, and that I have known longer, than look to you two.” Mahal reared back at the harsh tone Thorin's eldest had, and looked very confused by the sudden burst of anger. Yavanna simply smirked, eyeing Fíli with amusement.

 

“Snappy, protective, and rude,” she commented, turning to gaze at Mahal. “I can see how you are their maker.” Mahal made a face at her, and Yavanna stuck her tongue out at him very mature like. Thorin watched them continue with their retaliations with unrestrained confusion.

 

_I think I am surrounded by children...._

Thorin finally had enough when Mahal made a comment about how Yavanna’s feet seemed to have lost a bit of hair, and Yavanna created a tree branch in her hand, and began to beat Mahal on the arm that he tried to use to defend himself.

 

“Enough!” Both creators turned at the command, looking startled to be confronted in such a way by someone like Thorin. “You say you come here to help him,” he shouted, motioning to Bilbo, “Yet you stand here bickering and fighting like children. You both have done nothing but be selfish, and prideful, and rude!” The two refused to meet Thorin’s eyes, looking in opposite directions from each other. Thorin sighed.

“I understand you two have your differences,” Thorin said in a gentler tone. “But, I ask of you- I beg of you. Please,” he whispered. “Please, save him. If they only way to save him is to take a life, then take mine, but just please.” The two looked down at the hobbit on the ground, before cautiously looking at the other.

 

“If anyone can save him,” Mahal began, looking slightly defeated. “It’d be you. You wonderful, smart ass.” Yavanna’s lips twitched up ever so slightly. She nodded, and turned to Thorin.

 

“I still require a payment,” she began. “My husband has asked me not to take anyone’s actual life, and I will respect his wishes.” Thorin grew hopeful, yet cautious of what the creator could ask for. “I shall, instead of taking a life, shall take the Arkenstone, heart of the mountain.”

 

“Done,” Thorin said without a second thought. Mahal laughed joyfully, clapping his hands together and rubbing them in excitement.

 

“That a boy!” he cheered, making Thorin feel like he did as a child when his father had been proud of him. “Haha, now!” he said, looking at Yavanna. “Why do you need that blasted stone?”

 

“Balin and Dwalin, sons of Fundin, and Bifur, son of Befur” she called, ignoring Mahal for a moment. “Take the rams, and find Gandalf the Grey. Tell him to come up here with you, and bring the stone.” The three nodded their heads, and moved to the rams, Ori right behind Dwalin. Mahal smiled at the four as they walked by, pointing at Dwalin and Ori’s back when they passed and sharing a massive grin with Yavanna.

“I ask you for the heart of the mountain for one reason,” Yavanna explained, glancing at the four rams as they trotted down the mountain. “It symbolizes the life of the mountain, and the lives it has taken. It will be sufficient for the life I will need.” Thorin nodded his head, looking down at Bilbo with hope building inside him.

 

“I apologize for interrupting,” Bofur called out, grabbing everyone’s attention. “But, when you take the 'life' of the mountain, does anything happen to the actual mountain, or is there a little shakey-shake?” Nori gave a quick snort, making Bofur grin up at him with hope and hesitation in his gaze. Nori sighed before jerking his head to the side. Bofur scrambled over to him at the invitation, looking at him with an apology written all over his face. Nori nodded, slipping his hand into Bofur’s. Mahal clapped his hands in glee, watching the couple’s goings on with pleasure.

 

"Yes," he whispered, giddy as a young maiden who had found out her crush liked he back. "Ship, sailed!" Thorin shook his head in bewilderment, finding that Mahal reminded him of two very young nephews of his.

Bofur’s question still remained, though, and had Thorin staring at Yavanna intently. The creator shook her head.

 

“You’ll have to see.” Yavanna teased, smirking at Mahal who looked as confused as everyone else felt. Mahal just shrugged his shoulders and turned to the others.

  
“If she won’t tell us, then it's going to be good.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I've done a lot of research, and there are many different theories on Thranduil's wife, but not an actual description of what happened. I did read somewhere, that someone believed she had died, and in the BOFA, Legolas says that his mother died in Gundabad.  
> I made up my own way of what has happened to her, and I apologize if it doesn't fully fit the timeline, I kinda tweaked it to fit my story better.
> 
> Anywho, thank you for all the kudos and comments I have been given!! They mean a lot :) Hope you guys like the next chapter, and if you see anything wrong, please tell me!
> 
> I also changed it so that Mahal and Yavanna are supposedly divorced, but they're really just separated and trying to work through it :) Also, Mahal had this huge self confidence issue when it comes to his clothes
> 
>  
> 
> Also TRANSLATIONS!!!!!!
> 
> Thiach uanui a naneth gín gen hamma! - You’re ugly and your mother dresses you!
> 
> Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathog! - I can say what I wish, and you won't understand me!

The others accepted Mahal’s answer, moving to gather around and calm Fíli down from his small panic attack he was having at not being able to find Leoláin. Yavanna shook her head fondly, glancing up at Mahal, then down at Bilbo, and back up at her husband.

 

“It’s going to take a lot out of me,” Yavanna warned, grinning at the shrug of Mahal’s broad shoulders.

 

“I’ll help you home,” Mahal offered with a soft smile, motioning at the hole he came out of. “We can take the scenic route.” Yavanna’s startled laugh seemed to bring life around them. With a nod, she walked up to Bilbo, spinning around on her heel and giving Mahal a pointed look.

 

“If I wake up,” she warned, jabbing her finger in his direction, “And find that more than half of my cakes are gone-”

 

“I’m going to stop you right there, love” Mahal said, putting his hand in the air. “You know me better than Eru Ilúvatar himself.” Yavanna sighed, laying down next to Bilbo.

 

“There will be no cakes left.” Mahal nodded with approval at her words, watching with everyone as Yavanna gazed down at Bilbo.

 

“Oh, Bilbo Baggins,” she cooed, brushing away some of his curls. She looked back up at Thorin, her amber eyes a light with determination. “I am going to go back in his memories, and deem whether Bilbo's actions were indeed selfless, or selfish. It will not change whether I bring him back or not," she promised, her amber eyes soothing Thorin and his worries. "But if I find them to be indeed an act of selfishness, I will remove his fairy powers from him and all others in the Shire that hold it,” Yavanna explained to Thorin, who nodded hesitantly. The two looked up at Fíli’s shouts of joy, watching as his nephew ran over to the shieldmaiden who was struggling up to the rock where they were. Thorin was surprised when his usually reserved nephew, practically threw himself at Leoláin, who awkwardly accepted the hug with a smile.

 

“Oh, thank Mahal, you’re safe,” Fíli cried, pulling back to smile at Leoláin.

 

“Your welcome,” Mahal said cheerfully, smiling down at the couple. Fíli turned to the maker with a raised a eyebrow, his face a mixture if annoyment and irritation. Leoláin looked back and forth between the two, her eyes widening as her brain began to catch up with Fíli's words.

 

“Is...is he-?” Fíli nodded at her question, unimpressed, and stumbled to help Leoláin back to his rock so they could sit down. Leoláin brushed Fíli off, and walked up to kneel in front of Mahal, ignoring Fíli fabulously as he fell to the ground behind her with a yelp.

 

“Hail, Mahal, creator of the mighty race of dwarves.” Mahal grinned down at her, puffing up with pride at the title. After a moment, Leoláin glanced up from her bow timidly with a sheepish smile. “I apologize, but I do not know what I should do after this.” Mahal bowed his head to her in greeting, an honor that had even Yavanna’s eyes widening in shock.

 

“There is nothing to forgive, child of mine. Go, and help your One to his rock that he seems very fond over.” Leoláin’s strangled intake of breath, and Fíli’s mumbles of how he was not fond over a rock, were the only noises to be heard after the surprised announcement. Thorin was taken aback by the straightforwardness of the maker. Leoláin shook her head at the creator.

 

“Forgive me, but I-I beg your pardon?” Yavanna chuckled along with Mahal, turning to share a knowing look with her husband.

 

“Oh, dear,” she said, catching Leoláin’s attention. “Though you may not see it yet, we see it as clear as day.” Mahal nodded, gazing down at Leoláin who was staring at Fíli in shock. Fíli smirked at her, and leaned in to steal a kiss which sent the young girl into a small panic attack. Leoláin grabbed his face in her hand, and chucked him to the ground, glaring at him in horror.

 

“Don’t be daft,” she hissed. “You may be funny, a little smart, and kinda attractive,” she listed, gesturing to Fíli as she did so. Fíli's indignant squawk didn't stop Leoláin in here outburst, as she continued.

“But, I will not do anything rash, no matter what they say. No offense,” she rushed, holding her hands up in a show of peace. The creators took no offense in the words, finding only humour in them. “It’s- It’s just that,” Leoláin tried to explain, glancing all around her. When no one said anything, the girl looked down at Fíli, who was lying at her feet, smiling pleasantly up at her.

“We just met!” Fíli laughed, holding out his hand which Leoláin took instantly, helping to haul him up to his feet. He smiled fondly down at her, making the young maiden blush even through through her tanned skin.

 

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he said, earning himself a scowl at the nickname. “We can talk about it later. Whenever you’re ready.” Fíli winked at the girl, startling a laugh out of her which brought a laugh of his own. The two nodded, and walked back over to Fíli’s rock. Thorin watched them with happiness, his lips lifting ever so slightly when Fíli made enough room for Leoláin, glad that his son hopefully found the same love he had found with Bilbo.

 

_May it never be taken from him, please._

 

Yavanna moved her attention back to Bilbo, placing her small hand over his forehead, and closed her eyes to concentrate. A hushed silence fell over them all. At first, Thorin was relieved when he saw the smile grace her face, but then her head began to twitch to the side, her face contorting into unease. Thorin grew worried when her breathing grew short, and louder; but he wasn't alone in his worries.

 

“Anna?” Mahal called out, watching as pain swept over her face. Her face was pinched in fear, and her whimpers grew louder as she continued to flinch. “Yavanna!” The hobbit creator’s eyes snapped open, and she fell away from Bilbo into Mahal's hold, clutching her hand to her chest as if she had been burned. Mahal helped her up to a sitting position, continuously asking about her well-being. Thorin glanced down at his hobbit, then back up at Yavanna who shivered, looking at Bilbo in agony.

 

“What happened?” Thorin demanded, looking between the two creators, then to Bilbo. Mahal glared at him.

 

"Now you just sit there," he scolded, eyes hard and final, "and wait till she's had some air." Thorin complied when he saw Yavanna twitching in Mahal's arms, her breathing ragged. A few moments ticked by with Mahal calmly holding Yavanna, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and humming a small tune that seemed to be calming her down. Finally, Yavanna leaned into her husband, and mumbled something into his ear that had him gasp and look at Bilbo in shock. Mahal glanced back down at Yavanna in a bit of fright.

"You're sure?" At her little head nod, Mahal cursed under his breath, mumbling something that Thorin strained to hear. Leoláin's small intake of breath had everyone looking from the creators, to her. Her full attention was on Bilbo, her mouth slightly parted in disbelief.

 

"Leoláin," Fíli called out, coming to stand in front of her. She was the closest one to the creators out of the company, and was shaking her head in denial while looking at Bilbo.

"Leoláin?" She glanced up at him, calming momentarily at the comforting, yet worried, smile Fíli gave her. "What is it?"

 

"He has it," Yavanna answered in her stead. Everyone turned to her, confused and a little annoyed that they were the only ones not understanding what was happening.

 

"Has what?" Thorin demanded, getting rather furious no one was telling him anything. Yavanna turned to Bilbo in pity.

 

"He has...." Just as Thorin was about to shout at the top of his lungs in his frustration, seven familiar figures joined them on the rock. Four on top of rams, two on horses, and one on an elk.

 

"He has the One Ring," Gandalf shouted, getting off his horse, and flicking his robes around in anger. "I had suspected as such." Gandalf came up to Yavanna and Mahal, bowing graciously to them both. Yavanna smiled, her tense shoulders dropping at the sight of the wizard, while Mahal just glared at Gandalf, shocking Thorin a little, and reminding him of his self.

 

_I guess I know where I get it from._

Thorin turned back and noticed his companions coming to stand behind him with the rest of his friends, all of them scowling in the direction of the last two people. Even young Ori had a fearsome glare upon his face that Thorin wished never to be on the receiving end of. Another horse stood next to Gandalf’s, patiently waiting while its rider hopped off. Bard the Bowman was walking up to them, keeping his eyes locked on Thorin cautiously. Thorin did not blame him, but was watching him suspiciously.

 

_Why are you here?_

Behind Bard, was the most grotesque, horrifying, monstrous creature Thorin had ever laid eyes on. Thranduil got off his elk, and sauntered over to them, his obnoxiously blonde hair fluttering about him. Thranduil took no mind in Thorin at all, ignoring him in favor of being a pompous, pigheaded loser. At least, that’s what Thorin thought he was doing.

 

_Now why the HELL are you here?_

The two men paused when their eyes rested on Bilbo. Bard looked horrified, gaping at the small hobbit that Thorin had gently laid down on the ice. Even Thranduil looked stunned with his big mouth open.

 

"My good lady," the wizard said with a smile, turning to Mahal with a strained smile. "Aüle," Gandalf said, not sparing Mahal another look. Mahal growled at Gandalf, who ignored him like he did with most people. Gandalf  looked down at Bilbo in sorrow.

“Oh my dear boy, what have I gotten you into?”

 

“Gandalf, what do you mean he has the One Ring?” Thorin demanded, wanting to know what all the fuss was about. Just as expected, Gandalf ignored him, turning back to the horse he had rode up, muttering under his breath about hobbits and their secretes. Bard looked just as confused as Thorin felt, but Thranduil’s eyes had widen in silent fear.

 

_Is no one going to tell me what’s going on?!_

“The One Ring of Sauron.” Leoláin’s trembling voice caught Thorin’s attention, and he wished he didn’t have ears to hear. “I don’t know how, but your One has the ring of power.” The Company stood in silence at the unbelievable news.

 

“He got it, in the Goblin tunnels,” Yavanna explained, a look of deep despair on her face as she looked at the hobbit. “I can’t believe I was to blind to see it.” Mahal shook his head at her, trying to be reassuring.

 

“Anyone who is as busy as us, could overlook it as a trinket. A magical weird trinket.” Yavanna slowly nodded her head in acceptance, still looking guilty. Bard cleared his throat, looking a little skittish at the sudden attention he received from them all.

 

“I’m sorry, but who are you two? And what has happened to the halfling?” Thorin tried not to snap, he really did try, for he knew Bard meant nothing in the name, but he remembered Bilbo’s distaste at the demeaning nickname given to him and his folk.

 

“He is not half of anything.” Mahal and Yavanna smiled approvingly at Thorin, making him feel more proud and humble than he had ever felt. Bard looked taken aback, correcting himself and apologizing.

 

“I did not mean any disrespect,” the bowman said. “I am curious, though, as to what happened to him.” Thorin opened his mouth to tell him, but sat there mute. He couldn’t tell him. He physically wasn’t able to, since in his mind nothing had really happened.

After a moment went by in silence, Kíli walked up to Thorin, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. His youngest nephew turned back at the two, and Thorin saw Kili as the strong leader he was born to be, and he was proud to have him as his nephew, knowing he would grow to be one of the best advisors a King could have.

 

“My Uncle is part fairy,” Kíli explained, looking down at Bilbo in reverance. “In his act of saving us all, he risked his life, and lost it.” Kíli motioned to the two creators, one who was grinning at Kíli with so much pride, that Kíli was hard pressed not to return it. Turning to the makers wife, he gave a small bow.

“This is the Lady Yavanna, creator of hobbits, and Queen of the Earth.” Yavanna smiled at the two men, growing flowers at their feet as a show of her power.

Bard bowed low, and respectfully as everyone should do when meeting a creator or member of the Valar. Thranduil lifted an eyebrow at the flowers, turning away with a bored snort. Mahal was not the only one to glower at the prideful Elvenking.

“You will bow to Yavanna, as if she were Eru himself,” Kíli spat at the elf, drawing a hateful glare from the king. Thranduil sighed in a bored fashion, barely moving his head forward. Thorin bristled at the near to none show of respect towards the creator, his anger boiling inside of him. Kíli shook his head, disgusted by the display as well. With a small bow, Kíli grinned up at Mahal.

“And this is Mahal, creator of dwarves.” All of the company kneeled before the maker, Bard included. Except for Thranduil.

 

“Tree shagger, I swear, if ye don’t start showin’ propa respect, Imma break those stupid pointy ears of yers,” Dwalin growled moving towards the king. Ori placed his hand on Dwalin’s arm, shaking his head and silently pleading for him to stop. Dwalin glared at the librarian, but his true anger was towards the elf, much like all of the Company's anger at that point. With a heavy sigh, Dwalin reluctantly backed down, loosening his grip on his hammer. Ori gave a relieved smile to the dwarf. Thranduil scoffed, disgusted at the dwarves as they glared up at him.

 

“Like your pathetic insults can affect me, you worthless waste of space.” Mahal’s shouts of rage were louder than the outraged cries of the Company, but Ori’s voice rang louder than all of them.

 

“You listen hear you pointy-eared bully!” Ori screamed, stomping up to stand right in front of the Elvenking. Everyone around them stopped in shock at the display from the usually quiet and reserved librarian, and smirked when Thranduil backed away in stunned fear.

“No one talks to my One like that, and gets away with it! Now, no one asked you to bring your big head up here, remember? We came for Gandalf, but because you threw a fit, like a child, we had to wait for your ass to get ready and up here! Now, you will shut up, and be respectful to everyone here, or I will personally turn you inside out and kick you all the way back to Mirkwood! Do I make myself clear?” Ori demanded.

The Elvenking stood still, gaping at the dwarf who was regaining his breath. Thorin smirked at the display, proud to have brought such a fierce warrior on his venture, and knew Dwalin was staring at his One with all the pride and love one could muster.

Mahal was the one to truly show his pleasure in Ori’s display, laughing and cheering from the side.

 

“That’s right, Ori my son! You tell that weed-eater what’s comin’!” Yavanna elbowed her husband in the side, scowling.

 

“Mahal.”

 

“Sorry,” he said, turning back to Ori with a sweet, and pleasant smile, far too innocent for the creator.

“You tell that stupid weed-eater what’s comin’!” Yavanna sighed, rolling her eyes in annoyance; but Thorin had seen that look on his hobbit, and knew she was trying not to smile. From the look Mahal gave her, he knew also.

The company was roaring in cheers and laughter at Thranduil, who looked absolutely livid by the whole encounter, glaring daggers at everyone of them and clenching his fists in fury.

 

“You are, all of you, beneath me!” he seethed, turning his glare to the creators. A pebble suddenly flew across the ground, and went up to hit Thranduil in the head. Startled, Thranduil glanced down to locate the pebble that had mysteriously disappeared.

Irritated, Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, when again, a pebble flew up and hit him in the back of the head. And another pebble, and another pebble, and another, and another, and another. So many little pebbles hit the elf, that Thorin took a quick glance around to see who he needed to scold of his companions. When he saw no one was moving, he was able to figure out that it was surprisingly the same little pebble hitting Thranduil over and over again. It would zip down, hit Thranduil in the head, then pull back up and away into the air.

With a quick glance, Thorin saw Mahal’s finger discretely wiggling around in the air, guiding the pebble.

“Stop- This- Now!” Thranduil demanded, stumbling to make a coherent sentence without grunting at the small rock that was repeatedly hitting him in the head. The company was slowly chuckling at the Elvenking as he began to smack at the flying stone trying to locate it. In his movements, the Elvenking gracefully smacked his own face, making the others explode in laughter. Even Bard had a sudden cough, hiding his face from the others. Thorin caught Mahal’s eye, grinning at the wink he got.

Yavanna was smiling, but finally placed a hand over Mahal’s giant rocky one, politely asking him to stop. With a sigh, Mahal gave one last flick of his finger, and smiled when the Elvenking shrieked in anger at the final hit. By that time, Gandalf had come back with a huge bag, a black fur coat poking out at the opening, that looked very familiar….

 

“That’s mine!” Thorin said, looking at the bag in shock.

 

_All of my things were left in the weed-eaters place, except for orcist….Bilbo brought me orcist_

 

Gandalf nodded his head absently, throwing the bag to the ground with a clash of metal from within it. Dori and Bifur rushed the bag, opening it, and passing back all of the Company's things that had been taken from them in Mirkwood with shouts of joy. Thranduil bristled at the scene.

 

“Mithrandir,” Thranduil began slowly, stalking up to the wizard. Thorin thanked Leoláin who brought him his fur coat under Dori’s request, reverently lifting Bilbo and placing him atop the furs. “What are you doing?” Gandalf ignored the elf, and Bofur took the opportunity to tell the Elvenking what was happening.

 

“He’s given us back the stuff you stole, you thieving giant.” Thranduil positively seethed at the echoing agreements of the dwarrows around him.

 

“As if I give a damn about your things, you dull creature-ow!” Thranduil whined, rubbing at his forehead where a pebble had hit him in exact middle. Nori looked far too guiltless for his own good, reminding Thorin of when the thief always claimed he hadn’t stolen Thorin’s pocket change back in Erid Luin. Mahal gave an approving grin at the Ri brother, and Nori’s chest puffed in pride, a small smile of his own on his lips.

“That is enough!” Thranduil shouted, showing the most emotion Thorin had ever seen an elf display. Granted, Thorin did avoid elves at all cost, so the only times he actually interacted with them could easily be counted on half of his hand.

Thranduil stood with his arms at his sides, face reddening, and his cape billowing in the wind.

“I have never been more humiliated in my life! The amount of disrespect, and your attitudes towards someone of high class is appalling!” Some members of the company snorted.

 

“Wonder what that’s like? The poor thing,” Bofur wondered aloud, bringing a chuckle from most in the area. Thranduil raged at the minor’s comment, turning his hate on the two creators.

 

“Thranduil, stop this foolish and childish behavior,” Gandalf snapped, his hands gripping his staff as if to smack someone with it, and Thorin was grateful to be no where near the wizard. Thranduil whirled around to face the wizard, stomping his foot in a way that Thorin hadn’t seen since Kíli had had his last tantrum.

 

_So, a week ago…._

“No! Why should I respect something that created the most grotesque race in all of Arda?” he demanded of Mahal, looking absolutely murderous. “And where was the ‘Queen of the Earth’ when my precious Greenwood turned to Mirkwood?” Thranduil spat at Yavanna, eyes blazing in his wrath. Everyone sat quietly, watching Mahal as he got to his feet, seeming to grow in size with each step he took towards the Elvenking.

 

“I will take insults,” he began lowly, power and authority rolling of the rock giant in waves. “And I will take disrespect, pretty well; but I will not sit by while you insult my wife, nor my precious children. I only let you make your comments because I know my dwarrows can handle their own battles, but I always watch over them.” Thranduil glanced down at the rest of Mahal who towered over the elf a good five feet now. The Elvenking still looked furious, and that’s when Yavanna interviened.

 

“Thranduil,” she called softly, stopping at the tight shakes of his head.

 

“No, I will not listen to you.” She walked up to him as he turned away from them all, stilling him at her next words.

 

“I was always there, you know?” Thranduil stiffened even more. “I heard your prayers, and I was always ready to make the woods green again.”

 

“Then why didn’t you?” Thranduil hissed, making Mahal bristle at the harsh tone he used.

 

“You didn’t do anything about it,” Yavanna explained as gently as she could. Thranduil glanced back at her over his shoulder, eyes ablaze with hatred.

 

“What do you mean, ‘I didn’t do anything about it’?” Yavanna sighed, looking at the elf with sorrow.

 

“Many a times, your captain of the guard would try and get you to allow her to find the evil in your forest, and rid of it from your woods,” she reminded the elf. Thorin saw his youngest nephew’s eyes fill with pride at the mention of the captain.

“But you refused her, and hid away in your palace. I will always be willing to help someone in need, but they have to be willing to do some of the work.” Thranduil whirled around, his cape billowing in the movement.

 

“You shouldn’t have let the Greenwood fall to darkness at all!” Mahal glared at the elf, chest bumping him back away from his wife.

“And what do you think you’re doing, you dumb piece of rock?” The dwarrows outraged cries were drowned out by Mahal.

 

“Getting you away before you do something even more stupid. You should be grateful I don’t unleash my son, Ori, on you! Right Ori?” Mahal demanded, grinning madly at the librarian who was furious.

 

“That’s right!” Mahal turned back to the Elvenking with a smirk, moving towards him. Thranduil scoffed at the Maker.

 

“What could you possibly do? You’re nothing compared to me,” Thranduil said haughtily, sticking his nose into the air. Mahal stopped his advancement, looking very befuddled.

 

“I’m a member of the Valar,” he said slowly, as if to a child. “In other words, I outrank you. Plus I dress nicer.” Mahal smirked at the Elvenking’s armour in amusement, meeting Thranduil’s hateful gaze without trouble. The elf was red in fury, throwing his arms in the air in frustration.

 

“Thiach uanui a naneth gín gen hamma!” The group went silent at the elf’s words, most of them not able to understand them. Yavanna gasped at the Elvenking, turning to Mahal whose eyes were glowing brighter than before. Mahal looked as if he’d been slapped, gaping at the elf who straightened up proudly, as if happy to have hit a nerve in the maker.

 

“Thranduil,” Yavanna called gently, watching Mahal’s every move. “You will apologize to Aulë, and then you shall remain quiet the rest of the time you are up here. Do I make myself understood?” Thranduil smirked at the two, giving Mahal his full attention, and dismissing Yavanna's words.

 

“Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathog,” Thranduil sneered at him, smiling proudly when Mahal held his hand out with a growl. Thranduil’s smile fell immediately when the rock hammer behind the maker’s back, flew to his open hand, and in that moment, Thorin thought he was about to see the wretched elf’s death, and he wanted to stop it. The thought made Thorin make a sour face. He hated Thranduil, he knew that, but he didn’t want to see him die…. at least, not like this.

 

“How dare you insult my clothing, and think you can get away with it!” Just as everyone made a move to save the prideful elf who rose one eyebrow at Mahal as if challenging the maker, he was knocked off his feet. Thranduil fell right onto his back with a huff, making a pained face at the impact. Gandalf stood calmly in front of the maker and Elvenking, his staff slowly coming back to rest by his side.

 

“Mahal,” Gandalf said, blocking the view of the elf everytime Mahal moved to get a look at him. “Everyone here knows that you dress in the latest fashion, and you always look more than amazing in them. Right?” Gandalf asked, stressing his question at the others who all nodded vigorously. Mahal glared at the wizard, unbelieving in the words Gandalf was saying. Yavanna, seeing an opportunity, walked up to the maker, barely making his knee and gently put a hand on his arm that was down at his side.

 

“Mahal, my dear, think about your lovely hammer. You wouldn’t want his yucky blood all over it now would you?” Mahal nodded his head with a pout, but Yavanna stepped in his way. “Remember, if you smash his head, then blood will go everywhere, and you’ll have to take your new coat in to get all clean.” Mahal looked down at his coat, suddenly torn between smashing the Elvenking, who was being repeatedly pushed back down to the ground by Gandalf, or keeping his new coat nice and clean.

Behind Thorin, Dori tentatively walked up to the two makers, bowing respectfully when they turned to him.

 

“Hail Mahal and Yavanna,” the dwarf greeted, standing tall. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I was very intrigued by your coat, Mahal.” Mahal smiled down at him, peering down at his coat and wiping imaginary specks off it.

 

“Do you like it? I made it myself.” Thranduil scoffed at them, lying on the ground.

 

“Oh plea-” Thranduil began, only to be cut off when a large vine shot from Yavanna’s finger tip, slithered over to the Elvenking’s face, and wrapped tightly around his mouth like a gag. Dori quickly grabbed the attention of Mahal, who had started to stalk back over to the elf.

 

“I quite enjoy the look a lot,” he complimented, smiling when the maker grinned at him. “In fact, I would very much like to know how you could have made such an intricate piece of material. I do believe, if I tried, I could make one in fabrics, and they would be the next big thing in the newly reclaimed Erebor.” Mahal made a small noise, sounding like he quit enjoyed the idea of him being a fashion trendsetter.

Mahal pulled out two thinner pieces of stone with engravings on them from his inner pockets, and handed them to the dwarf.

 

“There you go, my boy,” Mahal said, smiling and giving a small pat on the dwarf’s head. Dori took them reverantly, thanking the maker and walked back to stand next to Balin. Yavanna’s shoulders relaxed, and she sent a relieved and grateful wink to Dori. The dwarf blushed, but gave a small nod of his head in acknowledgment.

Mahal stood up straighter, and no one was all that surprised when dozens of stones rained down on the Elvenking. Yavanna shook her head in exasperation, turning to Gandalf who gave one more solid push to Thranduil’s chest before the Elvenking took the hint, and realized he should stay on the ground.

 

“My friend,” she welcomed, taking his hands in hers. “Did you bring what I asked for?” Gandalf looked over to Bard, then glanced over his shoulder back at Thranduil who had stilled.

 

“I was not given the stone, since the people who hold onto it, refuse to give it to me.” Everyone of the dwarves were in uproar, cursing at the bowman, and Elvenking.

 

“The Arkenstone does not belong to you two!” Thorin bellowed, getting up for the first time in an hour. His legs were completely asleep, but his mind and sheer will power stayed him from swaying. “It belongs to me and my people, and we are giving it to Yavanna. Now give me the stone!” Everyone stilled at the deep, muffled laughs that filled the air. They all glanced at Thranduil who was sitting on the ground, propped up on his elbows like he was relaxing in the afternoon without a care in the world. The gag still remained in his mouth, but his laughter could still be heard clearly. Yavanna snapped her fingers, and the vine shriveled and fell away from Thranduil’s mouth as the Elvenking continued to laugh.

 

“Do you really think,” Thranduil chuckled, “We would believe you wanted the Arkenstone, just to give it away to someone else? You nearly killed your friend because he took it, and now you want to give it away?” The king roared in laughter when Thorin did a small flinch at his words. Thorin turned away from Thranduil, glancing at the bowman in hope.

 

“In exchange for the Arkenstone, I will give your people more than what was bargained for in Laketown, and the mountain is open to you and all your people till you have enough strength and men to rebuild Dale, and Laketown, which I promise to provide help when you begin rebuilding.” Bard gawked at Thorin, stunned by his statement. “You have my word.”

 

“Like that means much,” Thranduil snorted. Thorin winced at the statement, remembering in a blur how Bard had pleaded for him just to keep his word back at Erebor. Bard seemed to recall as well, if the glare shot at him had anything to do with it.

 

“I know my previous actions can never be forgiven, or overlooked,” Thorin accepted, lowering his head in defeat. “If our places were reversed, I doubt I would believe or trust you.” Thorin felt a hand on his shoulder, and gave a thin smile at his youngest nephew.

“My mind has cleared of the gold sickness, and it has never been more clear till this moment. I need that stone,” Thorin begged, praying to Mahal for his help. “And I will do whatever it takes to get it back.” Bard looked hesitantly at the dwarf, half of him appearing as if he wanted to give him the stone, and the other half not willing to. Thranduil noticed the bowman’s inner struggles, and walked over to him, standing in front of Thorin and blocking him from Bard's view.

 

“Your words mean nothing to us,” he dismissed Thorin, growling at the larger rock that was thrown at his head. The Elvenking whirled around at Mahal, but the creator was smirking at a young brunette who stood next to Thorin.

Kíli stormed up to the men, his fists trembling at his side in his anger. He bent down and picked up the runestone his mother had given him that had been chucked at the elfs head.

 

“The Arkenstone belongs to the King of Erebor, my uncle. You will not dismiss him as if he were anything lesser than you,” Kíli raged at the elf. “We deserve the Arkenstone, and I demand that you give it to us! ….Please,” the dwarf corrected on second thought. Thorin was watching the man and elf as they silently conversed, his eyes narrowing when Thranduil shook his head at Bard.

 

“Why do you need the stone?” Bard called out, much more kindlier than the Elvenking. Thranduil rolled his eyes, turning away from them all in annoyance. Thorin felt his hopes rise at the look on Bard’s face, hoping to gain his favor. Yavanna spoke up from the side where she rested against Mahal.

 

“In exchange for the Arkenstone, I will bring back Bilbo Baggins.” Bard stared at the creator, glancing back down at Thorin in confusion.

 

“I don’t understand,” he said, glaring at Thorin. “Like Thranduil said, you nearly killed him not mere hours ago, and banished him before all of us.” Thorin looked down at the hobbit, shame eating away at him. “And now you are willing to give up the Arkenstone to save him.” At Thorin’s nod, Bard narrowed his eyes at the dwarf. “Why?”

 

“The hobbit is my One,” Thorin explained, trying to make things speed up so he could get Bilbo back. Every second without him was agony. Thorin ignored the quiet whispers behind him at his announcement.

 

“Pay up!”

 

“Dammit!”

 

“What I did to him, is more disgraceful than I can possibly tell. I have a chance though, to bring him back, and-”

 

“And _what_?” Thranduil demanded, right in front of Thorin’s face in less than a second. “Have a happy ending with your _One_?” the elf hissed. Thorin glared at him. “Why do you deserve to live a nice and happy life with your love, while others must suffer the loneliness?” Thorin opened his mouth to shout at him, but slowly closed it.

Thorin thought about his last hour without the hobbit, and couldn’t picture living any longer without him.

 

 _But what if you had to?_ his thoughts wandered. _What if that had been the end? What makes you get to live a happy life with your One, while others like Balin and Dis and even Thranduil have to live on without theirs? What makes you better then them?_

Thranduil made a small noise, straightening to his normal height. “That’s what I thought.”

From behind the two, Thorin heard Mahal’s growls of frustration as he cursed at the Elvenking, and Thorin was not all that surprised when Thranduil whipped his head around to glare at the creator. He was surprised by his next words.

“Will you shut up?! You're so dumb!” Mahal held his hand out, and his hammer came flying to his open palm.

 

“I let you live once, princess!” the maker growled, twirling the hammer in his hand. Thranduil actually screeched, a high pitched, and very annoying sound that made Thorin want to cover his ears, and had Mahal looking all around for the source of the noise till he realized it was the elf in front of him.

 

“I am not a princess!” Thranduil squealed, stomping his foot on the ground and flapping his arms about. Mahal stared open mouthed at the display, an amused smile slowly blossoming on his face.

 

“You could’ve fooled me.” A few of the Company tried to hide their snickers, while others outright laughed at the Elvenking. When Thranduil turned to walk away, Thorin felt his blood boil at the sheer audacity of the elf.

 

“You would let him die because of your own pain?” Thorin bellowed. “You would let him die because of your hatred towards me?” Thranduil glanced back over his shoulder at Thorin, and his expression was blank.

 

“You already let him die.” Thorin's mouth dropped, and he wished Thranduil had just gutted him instead of say those words. Thranduil turned back only to come face-to-face with a seething green lady. Thranduil faltered in his step before regaining his composure. Glancing down, Thranduil saw the fresh grass that held Yavanna up to be at the height she was.

“Get out of my way.”

 

* _SLAP_ *

 

Everyone stood stunned, trying not to smile at the scene. Yavanna hadn’t slapped Thranduil hard, but not lightly either, and Thorin was hard pressed not to throw in a slap of his own. But his would not be light, nor would it be a slap.

Mahal made a hissing noise, and Thorin saw the little fear in his eyes when they met his. Mahal pointed at his wife’s back, and lowered his voice.

 

“She’s pissed.” Thorin rose his eyebrows in that, ‘oh, really’ fashion. Mahal held his hands up in surrender. “Just saying. I wouldn’t cross her if she was upset, and I can tell you, she’s pissed.” Thranduil glared at the creator in front of him, his face reddening in embarrassment.

 

“How dare you.” Yavanna scowled at Thranduil so fiercely, making him shut his mouth with a snap.

 

“You deserve more than a slap, Thranduil.” The green lady pointed at Bilbo. “You would let him die because of your selfishness?” Thranduil met her glare.

 

“People die in battle all the time,” he spat through gritted teeth. “It is a small price I am willing to pay.” The group was in chaos at the proclamation, all but one. Thorin stood, his heart breaking and his vision swirled in his mind.

 

“Why?” he pleaded, trying to make sense of Thranduil’s reasoning. His question silenced those around him. The Elvenking met Thorin's unrestrained look of confusion on his face. “What has Bilbo done to you that would make you so unwilling to help? Why won’t you help him?”

 

“What makes you and your One so important, that you get a second chance?” Thranduil demanded, jabbing his finger in his chest. “I lost my beloved wife Ages ago, and do you know why?” Thorin blinked in shock at the hurt in the Elvenking’s eyes.

“Thráin the First offered to give back the necklace that rightfully belongs to me and my people, the one that resides in your mountain. My father said I could have it, but I would have to go and get it myself.

So, I went to the meeting with the King Under the Mountain, thinking I could gift my lovely wife with the necklace when I returned. I arrived just as they found that wretched stone!” Thranduil’s pained voice rang through the field.

“And do you know what he did?" Thranduil whispered, his face full of anguish. "He laughed in my face. Told me he would only trade with a King, and turned me away. I had no choice, but to return home, only to find out that my wife, my _wife_!” Thranduil cried. Thorin flinched at the harshness in his tone, and he was not alone as even Gandalf's head moved back. “Had been taken hostage when orcs and filth stormed the capital of my father's lands. She was dragged and beaten all the way to _Gundabad_!” The Elvenking bellowed, his exterior shaking with his memories.

“I took my army to find her, but it was already too late, and I had to sit and watch as she died in my arms!” A small sob escaped the Elvenking’s mouth, and Thranduil shut it to hold back anymore that threatened to escape. Thranduil turned away from them all, walking over to the ledge of the rock, and glancing down at the ice below him, his head hung in misery.

Everyone was silent, not a sound to be heard. Yavanna had gone back to stand next to Mahal through Thranduil’s speech, and Thorin saw her tears running down her cheeks and fall to the earth, little flowers growing where her tears landed.

The Company didn’t know how to respond. Even Mahal was looking sheepish about his earlier roughness towards the elf, who was obviously still grieving over the loss of his wife. Thorin didn’t blame him, knowing full well that he wouldn’t live one day without grieving the loss of Bilbo if he was in the elf’s place.

Thorin, so lost in his own thoughts, missed Balin walk up to the Elvenking who was besides himself in his grief.

 

“King Thranduil,” Balin called out gently, catching his attention. Thorin was surprised not to see a glare on the King’s face, but rather a broken look of despair as he met Balin's eyes. “Now, I know you probably don’t want to listen to an old dwarf’s story,” he began. Thranduil snorted at his remark.

 

“I do believe, Master Dwarf, I am a few Ages older than you,” Thranduil joked. Balin’s surprised chuckle brought a small genuine smile on the elf’s face.

 

“That’s true, laddie.” There was a silent moment between the two, and Thorin saw, to his amazement, how Thranduil seemed to relax. “There was a battle, at Moria, are you familiar with it?” To Thorin’s shock, Thranduil nodded. “I was there, fighting along side my brother and kin,” Balin explained, taking a deep breath. “And my One.” Thranduil’s eyes held a knowing sadness as he peered away from Balin.

“She was a fierce one, my One was. Tougher than mithril. She demanded to fight with us, and once she set her mind to something, no one, not even Mahal himself could have stopped her,” Balin described in awe, his voice reverent as he talked of his One. Mahal nodded in agreement at the dwarf’s statement, which only made Balin grin in pride. His grin faded away, and Thranduil glanced back at him.

“I had fallen from a hit to the back, and didn’t notice the orc that was advancing from behind. My One did, and she charged the beast. I only had time to watch as her hand slipped, and….” Balin trailed off, unable to finish. No one blamed him.

“I didn’t even realize what had happened, only able to go back and avenge her.” The Elvenking was silent, looking at what Thorin realized was a ring on his finger, a tradition mainly used by men and hobbits.

 

“My wife loved the symbolism of rings in the world of men,” Thranduil explained to Balin, who had just complimented it when he noticed the King fidgeting with it as well. “I got them for us after our first hundred years together.” Balin made a small understanding noise, grabbing one of his braids.

 

“My wife made me this bead. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish her to be by my side.” Balin sighed, tucking the braid back under his beard where he kept it safe. “And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to get her back.” Thranduil studied the dwarf in front of him, nodding in agreement.

“Now, I don’t know about you,” Balin continued, glancing back at Thorin and Bilbo. “But I wouldn’t wish the pain I have felt without my One, on anyone. I would help them with the best of my abilities if they had a chance to remain with their One.” Thranduil’s demeanor changed at Balin’s confession, going as straight as a pole and glaring at Thorin and the others.

 

“That’s good for you, Master Dwarf,” Thranduil said, turning away and back to the crumbling towers ahead of him. Thorin was furious at the stubbornness of the elf, and was about to go up and give him the beating of a lifetime to get the Arkenstone-his sadness be damned- when Bard walked over to the two makers. The bowman’s face was shattered, and Yavanna looked pressed to give him a hug with the obvious heartache the man was feeling.

Bard reached inside his jacket, and pulled out the Arkenstone. The stone had many of the Company gasping in awe at the glittering, shiny heart of the mountain. Thorin looked at the stone, and almost smiled at his own thoughts. The Arkenstone did not sway him, it did not call to him. Thorin saw the Arkenstone the way Bilbo must have seen it, and almost laughed at how stupid he had been behaving over it. It was nothing but a shiny, pretty rock.

Bard looked at the Arkenstone, gently kneeling down in a bow to hand it to Yavanna who took the stone with a proud smile.

 

“Bard!” Thranduil scolded, glaring at the exchange in anger. Bard shook his head, his face serious.

 

“No,” Bard said, his words final. “If the roles were reversed,” he explained, glancing at Thorin. “I would do anything to bring my wife back.” Thranduil scoffed at the man. “Plus, I owe the hobbit.” His words made a few of them share confused glances with one another.

 

“What do you mean?” Thorin couldn’t help but ask, staring at the bowman in bewilderment. Bard looked down at Bilbo with respect shining from his eyes.

 

“My children were cornered by a troll in Dale,” he explained. Thorin tensed at his words, worrying over the nice children he had come to know on his stay at Laketown. He heard the soft gasps of his companions, and knew they shared his worry. Bard’s eyes held the same fear Thorin had felt when Azog had held Fíli over the edge of the building.

“I had no way to get to them, and I feared the worst. Just as the beast raised his arm, he was plucked from the very ground on which he stood. All of the orcs and creatures were, and I watched as they swarmed over our heads where we stand now, and saw how they were thrown to another place far away.” Bard gave a small, reverent smile to Thorin as he finished recalling the battle.

“My children are still alive because of Bilbo Baggins, savior to all those still alive out there today. I owe him more than all the gold in your mountain for that.” Thorin bowed his head at the man, grateful for him more than ever.

 

“I am forever in your debt,” Thorin said.

 

“Just keep your word this time,” Bard jested, walking over to stand next to Gandalf who gave him an approving nod of his head.

 

“How dare you!” Thranduil said, turning on the bowman. “Who do you think you are?”

 

“He’s Bard, the Dragon Slayer,” Fíli declared, smirking at the glare Thranduil sent his way. “And the new Lord of Dale.” Bard’s shook his head in denial, but no one could deny their birth right. Bard was now the Lord of Dale like Fíli had said. Thranduil scowled, opening his mouth to say something else. The elf was cut off, when four walls burst from the ground around him, trapping him inside, and a large stone slab was dropped over him, creating a rock room for the elf. The small cracks and holes that allowed him to breath, released the shouts and outraged cries of the King, but they were muffled greatly and were more like a loud humming.

The group turned to Mahal who was smiling pleasantly at his cage that he just made. The maker didn’t let his smile drop till he did a double take at his wife. Yavanna had her arms folded across her chest, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, and her foot was tapping against the ground that reminded Thorin of when Bilbo would get overly angry about something. Mahal lifted his giant rock shoulders in defense, his hands outstretched.

 

“What?” he asked, looking genuinely confused at being at the receiving end of Yavanna’s glare. The hobbit creator continued to tap her foot against the ground in a slow, staccato rhythm, making Mahal give her an exasperated look.

“Oh, come on. You wanted to do it too, and don’t you deny it. Yours would’ve been made of grass, that’s all.” Yavanna remained glaring at the maker, but didn’t deny the accusation. Turning away from him, she slide the Arkenstone into her dress pocket, and waved her hands around.

  
“Come on, we have some business to discuss.... and I wouldn't have made it out of grass.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Gandalf.” Mahal’s voice called out to the wizard. “Do you have a small bag for that blasted ring the hobbit carries?” Gandalf nodded, pulling a cloth purse from beneath his robes.

“Alright, now I know you and your meddling ways are the reason my children have gone on this quest, and have taken back their homeland, and for that I am thankful to you.” Gandalf gave a small smile, glancing back at the others fondly.

 

“We did get the mountain back, didn’t we?” he mused, looking at the mountain with a glint in his eyes.

 

“Do not talk while I am,” Mahal chastised the wizard, turning to look down at Bilbo. Gandalf muttered under his breath, shaking his head at Yavanna who gave him an apologetic smile. Mahal walked up to Thorin and Bilbo, kneeling down in front of the pair. Thorin could hardly bare to look at his hobbit, who was ashen, and colder at the touch; but it was almost harder to look away.

Mahal placed his gargantuan rock hand on Thorin’s small shoulder, and Thorin was surprised by the light, almost, gentle touch of the maker, and tried not to lean in to the warmth the hand provided.

 

“We will bring him back my son, all in due time.” Thorin’s eyebrows furrowed in the center as he glanced past to Yavanna, looking between the two.

 

“Can’t you bring him back now?” Mahal opened his mouth as if to tell him that they couldn’t, when he shut it with a befuddled look. He glanced back at Yavanna who bit her lip nervously, reminding Thorin much of his hobbit.

 

“The ring, though not fully woken or at it’s worst, has managed to take a hold of Bilbo’s mind in a way that I fear if I were to bring him back at this moment without the ring at least a safe distance away, it would awaken Sauron completely, and that is something I will not unleash on Middle Earth.” Mahal nodded in agreement, exhaling noisily through his nose.

 

“The ring was meant to be destroyed anyway. You’re just going to be speeding things along.” Thorin raised his head, prepared to explain to the maker why he couldn’t possibly leave his hobbit, when he saw Mahal not talking to him.

Gandalf didn’t look all that surprised that the maker was talking to him, if his eyeroll had anything to say about the matter. Gandalf scowled at Mahal, muttering under his breath about impossible dwarves, as he walked up next to Bilbo flinging open the small satchel.

“My children,” Mahal called out. The Company and Thorin looked away from the wizard, who had paused in his moves at Mahal’s words. “Look away.”

The Company did as they were told, turning to face Erebor. Thorin was reluctant to look away from Bilbo, but at Mahal’s pleading gaze, Thorin turned away from the hobbit. He noticed the little nervous ticks of his company.

Oín and Gloín were watching the clouds above them, and Bifur was grumbling under his breath, stroking the axe in his forehead. Bombur was playing with his wife’s golden bracelet that she had given him before the journey, while his brother was fidgeting with the brim of his hat. Nori was twiddling with Bofur’s open hand, drawing shapes in his palm. Dori stood next to Balin, both stone faced, and so still that it didn’t even look like they were breathing. Ori was clutching Dwalin’s arm, his eyes shut tight in order to not be tempted into looking at Bilbo. Dwalin was smirking down at Ori. Kíli was fiddling with his bow string, glancing nervously at the city of Dale.

 

_Probably looking for the redheaded weed eater….oh well, if he loves her….then I will not deny him of it….but if the pointy-eared, jumpy elf is mean to my son ONCE!_

 

The image of Fíli and Leoláin’s hands intertwined brought a small smirk to Thorin’s face. Leoláin glanced at Fili, meeting his fond gaze. She shook her head, gently resting against Fili’s shoulder. Fili thumped his head on top of hers, making her huff a small laugh.

Thorin and the Company turned back when Gandalf moved away from them, walking back to Yavanna who was stumbling to her feet with Mahal’s help. Yavanna turned to Mahal.

 

“Call upon a few of your children to accompany Gandalf on his venture.” Mahal’s face scrunched up in displeasure.

 

“Why?” he whined, glaring at Gandalf. “He’s never liked me, why should I send my children-”

 

“What do you mean, ‘I’ve never liked you’?” Gandalf demanded, straightening up in defense. Mahal glared at Gandalf, opening his mouth to shout at him, when Yavanna held her hand up to silence them both.

 

“Enough! My head cannot take much more of people arguing,” Yavanna sighed, pleading with her eyes to Mahal when he opened his mouth to protest. Mahal pouted, but begrudgingly nodded nonetheless, bringing a smile on the hobbit creator’s face. Yavanna gracefully motioned her hands up, and Thorin watched as the grassway bent to her will, lifting Yavanna into the air to be face-to-face with Mahal. She leaned over and placed a quick peck on the rocky cheek of Mahal, making him grin like a mad man. Mahal cleared his throat, moving to gaze upon the dwarves in interest. Well, one dwarf in particular.

 

“Leoláin," Mahal called. The shieldmaiden moved from Fíli’s side at the call, standing in front of the maker with a bow, and straightening to attention with her head held high and eyes set in determination. "My daughter." The young girls eyes softened at the creators kind words, glancing up at him.

"I love all my children equally, and have so much pride in all of them." Mahal smiled at the others, turning back to kneel in front of Leoláin. "And it pains me to know that one of them has been treated poorly, and by their own family." The others looked around in confusion at Mahal’s words. Leoláin's whole demeanor changed. Her shoulders stiffened, and her face became closed off, but Thorin could see the scared child behind the facade.

Fíli looked absolutely murderous, and for good reason. It was unheard of for a dwarf to abuse his kin, especially a child who was a blessing to any dwarf.

 

_Who could have hurt her? And in her family?_

"Dáin is a good man, and a good King,” the girl defended, stunning Thorin at the thought of his cousin being the one to harm his daughter. “The things he has done are understandable. It wasn’t unknown by many that he craved for a son, and when his wife died giving birth to a girl he never wanted,” Leoláin choked off, inhaling sharply through her nose to regain her posture. “I am a disappointment to Dáin, and that is no secret.” Mahal shook his head, little pebbles sliding from his beard.

 

“No my child. You are the greatest treasure your father could have possibly been given, and yet in his own suffering turned you away, and took away your right to call him father and your kin.” Leoláin’s bottom lip began to quiver, and she shut her eyes as if in pain. Several of the dwarves looked at the girl in horror, not able to believe the horrible things that could have been done to the poor shieldmaiden.

 

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Leoláin’s small whimper hurt Thorin. “I just wanted-”

 

“You just wanted what every child deserves to have, yet your father took that right away from you. I’ve watched you as he kicked you out of his palace last year, saying insane things that should never have even been thought.” Leoláin’s small sob was too much for Fíli. He moved to stand behind her, a silent defender. Leoláin didn’t shed tears, blinking them back as she struggled not to cry.

“You were so brave. You went out and protected your people, provided for them when you could, and gave them everything you had to offer. My child,” Mahal said slowly, placing a large hand on her shoulder. “I remember when I created you. Your soul was so wild, and brighter than any forge, and I worried about having to contain even half of it in a single dwarf, in fear of darkening its fire in its containment. It was also hard in finding the perfect match for you,” he admitted turning to Fíli, but the young prince only had eyes for Leoláin.

“But I remember knowing that you, my dear, were destined for great things, and would be known throughout Middle Earth in some way.” Leoláin brushed at her eyes, standing taller at his words. “Now, I tell you, that though your earthly father has turned you away, I will never turn from you. You are my daughter, and always will be.” Leoláin’s eyes cleared of the mistiness, a small smile growing on her lips.

“Now, I ask you to chose some of these fine dwarrows to accompany you and the grey thing to destroy the ring.” Mahal grinned at the frustrated sigh and grumblings of the wizard and creator when they heard the small slight to Gandalf. Leoláin huffed a laugh at Mahal, taking a deep breath for courage, and turning to the Company. Mahal stood behind her, a calming presence for the girl as she slowly walked in front of the Company.

 

“I know you don’t know me,” she began, standing strong and fearsome like the creator behind her. “I do not know most of you-I actually only know five of you.” Kíli waved at her madly, making her lips quirk up as she inclined her head his way. “Yet even those I do know, I have known not even a full hour.” She sighed, straightening her shoulders out and raising her voice. “If I am not mistaken, you are the Company that has accompanied Thorin Oakenshield to reclaim the Lonely Mountain,” she inquired, receiving nods and smiles in reply. “All of you are heroes, and will be known in history by all who will come as the brave dwarves who ventured here. Long have I lived with the hopes that one day, the Lonely Mountain will be lonely no more, and it’s because of you that that has become true. You have brought hope to people everywhere who used to call Erebor home, and can now do it again if they please.” Leoláin smiled at them all, and Thorin felt humbled to know of the appreciation from the young dwarrowdame. He was not the only one who felt embarrassed by her praises, as he saw the pink cheeks, or downcast eyes of his fellow companions. Fíli slowly walked up to her, his face blank of emotion.

 

“Is it true,” he asked quietly. “What Mahal said about your father. Is it true?” Leoláin’s smile dropped, and she nodded her head. Fíli scowled at nothing in particular, and Thorin could see the others hatred towards the King of the Iron Hills. Kíli’s scowl was one he had seen in the mirror plenty a time before, but was even fiercer.

 

“Though Dáin is my father by blood, I do not have the title or right to call him as such,” Leoláin explained, eyes looking down at the sword by her side which seemed to give her strength. “But I am a shieldmaiden, and I stand and fight for what is right. I stand for my kin, my home, and my King. I will die defending, live protecting, and prove my worth as a shieldmaiden,” Leoláin recited the oath, turning to Thorin. “And with your permission, I would like to fulfill my oath, for both Dain, King of the Iron Hills, and Thorin, King of Erebor.” Thorin could all but feel and hear Bilbo at that moment. His sharp elbow jabbing the side of his stomach, and his little whisper in his ear, saying, _“Go to her!”_ Thorin did as his hobbit would have wanted, walking over to stand in front of the girl. She was a few inches shorter than he was, barely coming to his nose. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

 

“Your father is my cousin,” he explained, “making us family. I would be honored to have someone like you fulfill your oath for Erebor.” He gently bumped their foreheads together, and when he pulled away, he saw the awestruck expression she had before she bowed. He gently pulled her up, and shook his head. “Family does not bow to family. No matter who they are, or their title.” Leoláin’s puzzled expression smoothed out, and she smiled at him. Thorin turned to the side, allowing her to continue her speech to everyone as he walked back to Bilbo’s side. Leoláin glanced over everyone thoughtfully.

 

“This quest is not something that I believe will be easy, I actually don’t fully know what’s going on myself." Gandalf cleared his throat, and Leoláin looked to him for answers. He moved his staff closer to himself, leaning against it comfortably.

 

"Radagast is flying to us as we speak, riding the eagles of Manwë. When he arrives, there shall be enough eagles for all to come along, and we shall fly to Mount Doom, where we will destroy Sauron for good." Leoláin thanked the wizard, earning both a look of approval from Gandalf, and small words of spitting at the wizard instead from Mahal. She smiled, nodding her head in acknowledgement to her maker. Turning back to the dwarves, her expression of happiness was replaced in an instant.

 

”I know where we are headed, and it is no place anyone wants to go. It is dark, and terrible, and filled with creatures far worse than the ones we have faced today on the battle field. It is a place of ruin and despair, but a place I am willing to go in order to cleanse our homeland of the evil that swarms our lands!" Mahal was gazing at the girl in pride as she slowed her breathing down from her little pep talk. Thorin himself felt pride in the girl, and wanted to join in on this quest and see it through. But, he had a promise he made with a hobbit to fulfill. The rest of the company looked eager to join, standing taller and stronger with every word she said.

“I will not force you to come with me,” she told them honestly, holding up a fist. “But, I will be honored to have anyone of you by my side.” Fíli stepped forward, instantaneously, which was no surprise to any of them.

“Except you,” Leoláin barked, holding her head up in finality. Fíli chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

 

“Don’t even try to keep me here,” he warned, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. “And, besides, this will give us a chance to get to know one another." Leoláin scowled at Thorin's nephew, something Thorin thought was rather impressive and a little scary.

 

"I said you're not coming," she growled, stalking up to him till they were chest to chest. "And that means, you're not coming." Fíli looked at her curiously, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk.

 

“Why won’t you let me come?” Leoláin stood silently for too long. She huffed and turned to Mahal.

 

“Can you tell him he can’t come?” Mahal shook his head firmly.

 

“Sorry child, but I don’t get myself involved with domestics.” Leoláin frowned, turning back to Fíli with extreme reluctance.

 

“Fine, but you can’t go off and get yourself thrown off of buildings, do you understand?” Fíli gawked at her with a huge grin, huffing a laugh.

 

“Do you think I did that on purpose?” Leoláin sniffed, looking undecided.

 

“I’m not sure. All I’m saying is, don’t do it again.” Fíli chuckled at her, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“Well, I’ll do that if you promise not to go and hang on the edges of cliffs,” he retaliated, making her scowl.

 

“Do you think I did that on purpose?” Kíli laughed in the back, coming up to wrap an arm around the two of them.

 

“I swear, it’s like deja vu,” he commented, smiling down at them both. “I’m coming with to keep you both in line, and there is nothing any of you can say to me to make me stay,” he warned everyone when some moved to protest.

 

“The same goes for me.”

 

“What?” Dwalin, Dori, and Nori cried out, staring at the youngest Ri brother in horror. Kíli paid them no mind as he walked up to the young librarian and patted his arm.

 

“That a boy, Ori!” Ori stumbled a little at the forceful pat, but smiled at Kíli nonetheless. Dori turned to him, but Ori was already raising his hand to stop him.

 

“I am of age, in fact, I am older than those three,” he started, pointing to Leoláin, Kíli, and Fíli. “I have ventured the quest for Erebor, faced a dragon, and fought in the battle of five armies and have lived to tell all three tales. I can protect myself,” he reassured his brothers. “I want to do this for Bilbo, it’s the least I can do.” Dori sighed, shaking his head. He looked up when Dwalin came up to him, eyes set.

 

“Nothing will touch him,” Dwalin vowed. Dori glared at him, but nodded his head. Dwalin marched back to his One, and clasped his hand in the smaller one. Leoláin nodded to the slowly growing group, opening her mouth to speak, when two beings joined them on the rock.

The blonde elf’s eyes shot to the rock cage, widening when he heard the silent muffled shouts of his father. His eyes widened, and he ran to the cage. The red haired one stopped at Kíli's side, who grinned up at her. She stared at the cage and her friend who was smacking against the rock wall, calling for his father in confusion.

 

“What has happened?” the redhaired one asked Kíli, glancing down at him. Kíli shrugged.

 

“He refused to give us the Arkenstone to save our friend, so Mahal got fed up with him, and put him on a time out,” he explained as efficiently as possible. The blonde one turned to them.

 

“He did what?” Gandalf cut Kíli off before he could explain it any further.

 

“No time to explain,” he said, eyeing the sky. Thorin and the Company followed his gaze, spotting the eagles who were approaching Raven Hill swiftly. “Those of you who are coming make yourselves known.” Bifur stepped forward, much to everyone’s surprise, and signed to them all.

 

 **Do it for Bilbo**. Thorin nodded his head in thanks to the dwarf, happy for his friendship. The redhaired elf stepped forward as well, shocking everyone.

 

“You have my bow,” she offered, glancing at Kíli who smiled proudly up at her. Leoláin bowed her head to the elf.

 

“I am happy for it. May I know your name?”

 

“I am Tauriel,” the elf replied, bowing back in respect. Leoláin smiled gently up at her.

 

“I thank you, Tauriel. I am Leoláin, daught- shieldmaiden of the Iron Hills,” the young dwarf caught herself, making everyone wince at the taken title. They turned at one of the cries of the eagles.

 

“The eagles are coming,” Fíli singsonged, watching them with a little bounce in his step. Leoláin snapped out of it, glancing up to see them mere moments away, a little wizard in brown leading the flock.

 

“Okay, so,” she said, staring at the six around her. “Let’s go.” They waited as the eagles and Radagast landed on the ground, and Gandalf quickly made his way up to him to explain the situation. The others made their way to the eagles, Dwalin and Ori sharing one, when Thorin called Fíli and Kíli back before they got to their birds.

 

“Dayamu Khuzan-ai menu,” he whispered, bumping their foreheads, and briefly giving each of them a hug. Kíli smiled at him.

 

“Just make sure our other uncle is alive and well when we get back.” Thorin smirked at his nephews, nodding in agreement, and sending them off their way. The blonde elf had joined the group, getting on one of the eagles, and glaring at the rock cage. Thorin didn’t know what that was about, nor did he really care.

Kíli climbed onto an eagle, sitting in front of the she elf, while Fíli got on behind Leoláin. Gandalf mounted his eagle, and they made their way to take flight when a voice called out.

 

“Wait!” Nori jogged up to them. “I’m coming with.” Bofur watched his One run off, heedless of who was leaving. It wasn’t till Nori got to an eagle that Bofur’s brain seemed to catch up to him. His face contorted into pure shock and confusion.

 

“What?!” The miner bolted towards his One. He attempted to climb the eagle Nori was occupying, when a hand shoved him down. He looked up at Nori who shook his head firmly. Bofur tilted his head to the side. “I’m coming with-”

 

“No, Bofur,” Nori cut him off. “You’re staying here.” Bofur blinked, reeling his head back. “When Bilbo wakes up, he’s going to need you,” Nori tried to explain. “You guys are best friends, and he will need that after what he’s gone through. You need to stay here.” Bofur stumbled for words as his brow furrowed in rage.

 

“Why can’t you stay then?” he demanded, attempting to climb the eagle again, only to be shoved back down.

 

“They need someone light on their feet, incase we can’t just fly into Mordor.” Bofur paled at the thiefs words.

 

“And what are you suggesting? One does not simply _walk_ into Mordor!”

 

“I know that!” Nori snapped, making the miner shut his mouth. “It’s the least I can do, and I know I can do it if it comes to it.” Bofur’s glare died away, his gaze turning desperate.

 

“I will not stay here, while you go off and risk your life-”

 

“Yes, you will,” Nori growled lowly. Thorin didn’t like this situation, nor did anyone else. He wanted to be as far away from this little spot as he could get, hating the awkward tension when Ones fought.

The miner stopped, turning his haunted gaze away from Nori. Nori reached his hand down and grasped his One’s in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“I’ll be back,” he promised, and Thorin couldn’t help but shake his head at the promise that couldn’t be kept. If something happened, to any of them, Thorin didn’t know what he would do. Bofur nodded, murmuring a few words for only the thiefs ears. He stepped away from them and went back to his brother’s side. Mahal and Yavanna turned to the group of eleven on the eagles.

 

“My blessing be upon you,” Mahal wished, waving his hand at them. Kíli shook his head with a silly smile on his face.

 

“No, that’s not what you say.” Kíli laughed, sighing patiently at the confused face Mahal made. “You’re supposed to say, ‘May Mahal’s blessing be upon you.’” Kíli’s smile fell away, as everyone stared at him like he was insane. His brow furrowed in confusion, as he bit his lip in concentration. “But, I just remembered how you are Mahal, so then you actually wouldn’t be saying your own name like that, you actually would say, ‘my’ instead of ‘me’ no-I mean Mahal. You’d say ‘me’ instead of ‘my’....no-I mean ‘my’ instead of ‘me’....or Mahal? Oh, I’m confused,” the dwarf sighed, leaning back into Tauriels arms in exhaustion.

The she elf smiled down at him fondly. Thorin shook his head, and watched as one by one the eagles took off, and flew the way that Bilbo had thrown the ball of orcs, trolls, and goblins. To Mordor.

 

They waited till the eagles were out of sight, which felt like hours, and Thorin had never been tested in his patience more than now.

Bard had asked to leave during that time, and went off in search of his children, and to check over his people. Everyone else was worrying over the company that had left, and over a certain hobbit.

 

“How are you going to do this then, Anna?” Mahal asked Yavanna when she began to hum, flicking the Arkenstone into the air and catching it soundly in her palm. Yavanna held the stone up to the sun that had begun shining through the thin veil of clouds above them, illuminating the beauty of the stone even more. But it was a dull, lifeless beauty that did not call to Thorin as it had once upon a time.

 

“Look out on that battlefield, and you shall find death and ruin, but that is all part of the cycle.” Thorin looked out over Raven Hill, seeing the unmoving bodies of dwarves, men, and elves. “A heart brings life,” Yavanna declared, facing the mountain. “And the heart of the mountain, can bring life to more than just our beloved hobbit. It can't bring life back to those dead on the battlefield, but something else.” Before anyone could stop her, Yavanna took the Arkenstone, and crushed it in her palms like it was a grape. Everyone let out a soft gasp in horror, but Yavanna had a smile blossoming on her face.

With a wave of her hand up, she was lifted high up into the air, way above the crumbling towers. In her fist, the remnants of the Arkenstone laid safely. Thorin couldn’t see the tiny movements she made, but watched in awe as she flung her hand out, sparkling dust being carried in the wind towards Dale and Erebor. Thorin felt the breeze flow through his hair, bringing a scent of fresh grass after rain, blooming scented flowers, and the warmth of sunshine rays.

 

“Look,” Bombur cried in reverence, standing at the edge of the rock ledge. The others gathered around him, and looked on down at the battlefield blocking Thorin’s view.

 

“What is it?” Thorin called, leaning back and forth to see what was going on. “What’s going on?”

 

“The field,” Balin breathed, glancing back at Thorin briefly. “It’s...it’s turning green,” Balin replied breathlessly. “Trees are growing, and I can see those flowered bushes at the base of the mountain growing.”

 

“Look at Mirkwood,” Gloin cried out, grabbing everyone’s attention. Thorin watched the forest that was far off in his eyes, but he could see it. The trees grew brighter with life, and he could almost feel the life of the forest returning. The very border of trees seemed welcoming, and open, so different from it’s dark and hostile form when they had first come upon Mirkwood.

 

“The desolation is no more,” Mahal confirmed with a grin, taking his large hammer out from his back. “And now,” he mumbled, glancing out to the mountain, “Time to add a little me to it.” He gently tapped the rock beneath him, and Thorin watched as bright light, as white and shiny as mithril, raced through the cracks of the stone beneath him, traveling at unimaginable speeds towards Dale and Erebor. The rest of the Company scattered away as fast as they could from the light, but the glowing

 

“By Mahal’s beard,” Bofur choked out, as he was the first to recover out of the group and run back to the edge, following the light with his eyes. The Company rushed him at once, mixed astonishment and admiration in their eyes.

Thorin glanced down at his hobbit, gave his hand a light squeeze, bile rising in his throat when he felt the skin move and sway with bones reduced to nothing. He ran up to his friends and his mouth fell open, eyes widening bigger than a hobbit’s foot.

Wherever the light touched or traced over, it was quickly filled with the pieces of stone that had once occupied it. The light zig zagged through Dale, and Thorin watched as the city began to rebuild right before his very eyes. The light continued to travel across the field until it fell upon Erebor’s massive rubble reduced gates. The gate slowly began to fall back into place, piece by piece, till it was a large glowing wall. Dale was in much of the same state as the gate, glowing brilliantly where it was being rebuilt, and never lighting up. When Thorin began to fear the glowing light, it began to dim like a candle at the end of it’s wick, slowly fading out. Everywhere the light had touched, it left a renewed piece of architecture. The city of Dale was as Thorin remembered when he was a boy, and the massive dwarven statues that protect the mountain of Erebor, stood proudly at the sides of a reconstructed gate. The cite of it all took Thorin’s breath away. It looked as if Smaug never happened. The tall trees of oak that grew around the pathway to Erebor between Dale and the mountain swayed in the breeze, and Thorin swore he heard the swishing of leaves from all the way on top of Raven Hill.

 

“What’s that noise?” Bofur asked, leaning so far over the edge that his older brother placed a foot on his back so he wouldn’t topple over on accident. Thorin tilted his ear towards the cities, and indeed heard a slight buzzing noise which he had mistaken as the trees.

 

“They’re cheerin’,” Gloin answered with a smile, and that’s when the noise really hit them. The loud shouting and blasts of horns brought even a large grin to Thorin’s face. Thorin turned back to his Maker, bending down to his knee with a bow.

 

“Thank you,” he proclaimed loud enough to grab his companions attention. He heard them all follow his lead, and felt an overwhelming sense of slight happiness bubble inside him. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but he was happy for the feeling nonetheless.

 

“You’re welcome my son,” Mahal acknowledged them all, placing his hammer back in its rightful place on his back. Thorin glanced back and saw Yavanna kneeling over Bilbo, her fist just above his head. The Creator glanced back at Mahal with a small smile.

 

“Ready?” he asked, smirking at her when she nodded her head slowly.

 

“Welcome back, Bilbo Baggins,” she whispered, sprinkling the rest of the Arkenstone about him. At first nothing happened, and Thorin felt his heart constrict under the pressure, till he saw it. Painfully slowly, and thankfully noiselessly, Bilbo’s body began to pop back up like his bones were being reconstructed. Yavanna shut her eyes, and placed a hand over Bilbo’s chest, right where his heart would be. She inhaled sharply through her nose, and then with a small grunt, pushed down on the hobbits chest.

A burst of energy rippled from the two, almost knocking everyone over. Yavanna was thrown away from Bilbo, eyes closed and unmoving. Mahal trotted over to her, slowly reviving her back to reality. Thorin paid them no mind as he ran after the only thing he cared for at this moment. Bilbo stayed still on the ground on top of Thorin’s large coat, but he looked different. His cheeks were starting to flush with color, and he was warm to the touch when Thorin gently placed a hand on his cheek. Thorin was still so afraid that this was not real, that Bilbo was still gone, and would break like glass beneath his fingers if he wasn’t careful. He placed his ear close to his mouth, and couldn’t contain the sob of joy that escaped his mouth when he felt a hot puff of air ghost over the shell of his ear.

 

“Thorin?” Balin called out tentatively, unsure of what to think. Thorin just shook with joyous sobs that racked his entire body, fighting the tears that were uselessly spilling over and down his cheeks.

 

“He’s alive,” he choked out with a laugh, startling his friends. “Balin, everyone, he’s alive!” Cheers echoed around him, laughter filling the air. It took Thorin a moment to realize it was his laughter that he heard, and he couldn’t look up from the rosy cheeks and golden locks of the most beautiful creature in all of Middle Earth. His fingers kept trailing over the sides of Bilbo’s face, reveling in the bare skin he felt.

Bofur came up next to him, but Thorin didn’t spare him a glance, not yet at least. When he did, he saw tears in the miners eyes, and they shared a wide smile.

 

“Alright,” Mahal grunted, standing back up with his wife in his hands, “We’re off! Now, Bilbo may not wake for sometime. It could be in five minutes, or even five hours. His body is going to be needing to recuperate after not working for as long as it had,” Mahal explained, glancing down at Bilbo with a smile.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s in the next five seconds.” Thorin couldn’t help grinning at his Maker, but he couldn’t help not grinning at this point. He was too ecstatic, too excited, too antsy.

“This was a one time deal, so try and stay alive, kids,” Mahal called over his shoulder. “Take care of one another.”

Mahal turned back to the group, a thought having just popped into his head.

“Oh, and if you want to let the thing out,” he said, motioning with his head to the stone cage that held Thranduil. “You only need to shove the top off. It should move easily enough. You can send a rope down, but I think he can jump out,” Mahal explained mischieviously, grinning at the laughs and chuckles of the group. Yavanna weakly smacked his chest.

 

“Mahal.”

 

“Sorry, love. Bye kids! Now, have you heard anything about….” Mahal’s voice trickled away the farther he receded down the tunnel, rocks filling up the hole. When the hole was finally filled, no one would have believed them if they had said something had come out of it, let alone Mahal the maker of dwarves.

 

“Mhmm,” a small groan broke the silence, and everyone turned to face Bilbo as he slowly shifted around atop the furs. Thorin was there instantly, hovering far enough to give him room if needed. Bilbo’s eyes began to flutter open, and Thorin had never seen anything more precious and beautiful than the smile he received.

 

“Hello,” Bilbo rasped, his voice like a balm to Thorin’s acking and irritated burn. Thorin let out a broken sob, his smile still on his face as he gently cupped the flushed cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the warm skin.

 

“Hello, ghivashel,” Thorin greeted, blinking the tears away. Bilbo smiled wider at that, and Thorin took it as a good sign. The smile turned slightly confused as he squinted his eyes up at him.

 

“Um...what happened?” Thorin tried to steady himself with a calming breath, but a shudder ran through his entire body.

 

“You, um, you died,” Thorin explained, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. Bilbo’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he made a contemplative noise.

 

“Well, at least I didn’t faint,” Bilbo pointed out with a small nod. Bofur howled in laughter catching the hobbits attention for the first time.

 

“Ai, that’s a good thing now, ain't it!”

 

“Bofur!” Bilbo cried happily. He didn’t attempt moving anything more than his neck, making Thorin slightly worried, but he brushed it off.

 

_Bilbo’s body is probably still recovering, and his head must have been the only thing to come back for actual movement._

 

“Well, it’s a long story,” Bofur sighed, putting the explanation off for later. Bilbo needed to rest right now, not think about more quests, and Makers and Creators. “And I think it will be easier said over something to eat.” Bilbo groaned appreciatively at Bofur's suggestion.

 

“Oh, thank the Valar. I’m starving!” Thorin’s thunderous laughter echoed through out all the battlefield.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Bilbo's back :) sorry it's taken me so long to update. School, church, and a wedding got in my way. Hope you lovely people have been doing great!  
> In the upcoming chapter we'll be meeting Dain, and it will be a bit of fluff as we await the return of the fellowship who has bravely ventured off. Stay tuned!


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